Past Interference
by My Kate
Summary: This story is based on a challenge involving Sara receiving an invitation to a college reunion at Harvard, and Grissom involved in hopes of smoothing over a rough patch in their marriage...GSR all the way!
1. Chapter 1

A/N This story is an entry to the May/June fanfiction challenge at GSRForeverOnline…it is the first time I am trying my hand at using someone else's prompt, so I'm excited to see how this story will play out…a few chapters are already written, so I expect to update every other day regularly… the prompt is about Sara returning to Harvard for a College Reunion, and taking Grissom along to smooth out some rough patches in their marriage…this one's full of angsty events, GSR-style…all mistakes are mine… hope that you will join me for an interesting ride…

Gre-e-e-eg! Please! He's only here for two more nights!"

Tessa Redwood was really pulling out all the stops.

With anyone else, her pleas would be considered whining.

But she had such an adorable pout that there was no doubt Greg was going to give in to whatever she wanted.

One of the new-hires in the print lab, the young twenty-something Tessa had only been working at CSI for the last six months.

And Greg Sanders had become smitten with her upon her arrival.

Sara chuckled softly to herself as she poured another cup of Greg's "secret blend" and moved to seat herself at the break room round table.

She absolutely loved having Tessa around; having found out the blonde lab tech's weakness for great coffee, Greg had lately taken upon himself to ensure everyone enjoyed his very best stash of Blue Hawaiian blend.

If she were to be honest with herself, it was more than that.

Having been the "science nerd" in both high school and college had put her off-limits to most sorority-minded or athletic-focused girls her age.

Most of the people Sara would meet in social gatherings were boys who either wanted to get into her pants or who wanted her to partner with them in lab classes to guarantee they would get an "A".

So it was – flattering – to have a young, pretty, energetic woman like Tessa interested in hanging around Sara for casual conversations on a scheduled coffee break, sometimes in the break room but usually in her office (although she secretly suspected that sharing an office with Greg may also have been a draw).

Sara was always sure to leave for "test results" when Greg appeared or if Tessa mentioned he was on his way.

Although she was used to years of his flirting with her, Sara was fascinated by watching her best friend blossom into an incurable romantic who would do anything to please the woman who had him wrapped around her little finger.

She wanted a ringside seat for this latest match, having no doubt as to which part of this duo would emerge victorious.

"But…Tess-aaahhh," Greg whined with a mock-pained expression, mimicking his love's tone.

This caused them both to laugh aloud, a sound Sara had noticed was more prevalent throughout the CSI halls now that Tessa and Greg were dating.

That thought brought Sara a small pang of – what? Sadness? Jealousy? Longing?

Shaking off the thoughts of the recent changes in her relationship with her husband, Sara smiled a bit too brightly and forced a friendly inquiry.

"Okay, you two…Tessa, what are you forcing poor Greg to do now?"

"See? See? Sara, you're my friend. Tell her she just can't do this to me. Tell her I'm not the "lecture circuit" kind-of-guy!" Greg made contact with his love's blue eyes, pleading with a giddy smirk as he leaned into the blonde's personal space.

Sara was amused and intrigued. "Lecture circuit?"

At this, Tess retrieved a thumb-worn paperback from her large lab coat pocket.

"Dr. Wilson. He's going to be speaking at UNLV tonight and tomorrow. I LOVE this man! He's so _insightful_, so _intuitive _– "

"WHAT makes you think he's not just some quack who has a ghost writer pen this trash!" countered Greg as he whipped the book from Tessa's hand.

"Greg Sanders!" Tessa whispered, as if horrified by even the suggestion that her hero would be party to such a thing.

"Wilson? PHILIP Wilson?" Sara asked as she reached out in silent request for the paperback.

"Dr. Philip Wilson," Tessa replied, glaring at Greg. "PhD in Human Relations from Berkley, undergrad degree from HARVARD," she emphasized as if to prove Greg's allegations absurd.

Sara's face relaxed into a lazy smile. "Philip Wilson," she spoke softly, her head shaking as a soft chuckle brushed over her gap-toothed front teeth as they bit into her bottom lip.

"Sara?" Greg frowned, moving closer to his friend, "you know this guy?"

"Huh?" the brunette looked up and had to blink before rejoining the present and locking eyes with her friend.

"Uh-huh," Sara answered as she sat back to look at the picture of the handsome lecturer poised for a backcover photo.

"Oooh, Sara," Tessa spoke frantically as she rounded the table and threw herself into the seat next to the CSI.

"PLEASE, Sara. Could you introduce me? Perhaps get him to sit with us for a coffee? Maybe get us some backstage passes, or , or, maybe go out for drinks? Or dinner? Please, Sara?" Tessa was rambling as the possibilities of meeting her idol paraded before her mind.

Sara's hand shot up forcefully, "Wait, hold on, don't – you misundersto- Tessa, I- " but her interruption fell on deaf ears as Tessa whipped her head around to Greg.

"Oh, Greg, please…Sara has to come with us…she just _has_ to introduce us…_please_…"

"Sara, please, we both have tomorrow night off…please, come with us…" he began, and noticing that Tessa was concentrating on Sara's face, Greg sent an imploring glare directly into Sara's panicking gaze.

Sara was about to protest more, when you caught the longing in Greg's eyes to make Tessa happy by giving her what she wanted most.

Another pang shot across Sara's heart as she thought how lucky Tessa was to be the sole focus of someone's affections.

Sighing deeply, Sara tried again to explain her hesitancy.

"Tessa…it's been years…we haven't kept in touch…he probably wouldn't even remember –"

"Forget _you_? No way, Sara. Once you've been exposed to the "Sidle Spell" there's no losing _that_ memory," Greg spoke so surely that it made his friend blush.

Sara took a deep swig of coffee, swallowing the caffeine goodness along with the lump that had formed in her throat.

"So…what'd ya say, Sara?...tomorrow night? UNLV? Philip Wilson?" Greg pushed again, knowing that he was being forward but still propelled by the excitement in Tessa's eyes.

Sara looked at her old friend for a moment. They had shared a unique bond, keeping no secrets during the good and bad times in their past.

_Wish I could still share with you, Greg._

Smiling and shrugging her shoulders in defeat, Sara shook her head and sighed, "Fine! Fine! Tomorrow night – but you're buying dinner, Greg!"

Despite her misgivings, she could only laugh at Tessa's squeal of delight and at Greg's sigh of relief as he mouthed his thanks while he hugged his girlfriend in a happy embrace.

As they turned away from her, Sara's eyes spotted the clock above the open doorway.

_Our schedule SKYPE time…_

Standing with her unfinished coffee, Sara drained her mug and strode past the lovebirds making plans for their night out.

Stopping to stare for a moment at her office and the darkened monitor screen perched about her desk, she inhaled deeply and pivoted resolutely toward the Trace Lab to check on Hodges' progress on her evidence samples.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The heat from the late-day sun was partially relieved by the thatched roof, but no breeze cooled through the opened cabin windows.

While others in the compound could be heard shutting down their research areas and beginning to move towards the kitchen area, one lone scientist sat perched at the end of his folding chair that had been placed in front of his computer monitor.

Having the program running, Gil Grissom sat a bit anxiously for a Chat Request box to appear on the screen.

Checking his watch as he had for the last twenty minutes, he rubbed his hand tiredly over his eyes and slowly down his thickening beard.

_She isn't coming._

That thought made him inhale deeply and wonder for the second time in as many weeks if something was seriously wrong between him and Sara.

It had been earlier last week that they had shared their near-nightly conversation, missed only when Sara was on a case hot enough to keep her away from her computer. Even then, there would an email explaining her absence.

He wondered if she understood how important this link was for him.

He missed her.

Longed for her during these long, lazy tropical nights.

More than once, especially in these last two weeks, Gil had begun to question his decision to pursue this work while their grant applications were being processed.

Their online meeting a fortnight ago was really the last night Gil could honestly say he had spoken with Sara that she looked happy and so glad to see and talk with him.

The next two days found Sara on court appearances and the couple managing only quick SKYPE chats.

Then came her "regrets" email that that she and Ray had been given an unusual case that was perplexing in its outcome and its suspected cause.

After that email-only night however, their conversations were almost stilted – as if Sara was going through the motions.

Gil had tried to get her to open up and talk to him about what was bothering her about the case, and at first he took her reluctance to talk about it as simply her reverting back to past habits.

But Sara had never distanced herself from him at this length since their marriage.

And Gil knew her well enough to realize she was hiding something from him.

There was a guardedness to her inquiries, a firm denial to provide him with many details of what she had been doing or with whom she had been doing it.

But it was her difficulty in looking directly at him that caused him the most heartburn.

Originally, using SKYPE as their method of communication had been Sara's idea. He smiled softly as her words rang out in his memory:

…_I want to be able to lose myself in those baby blues of yours, if only for a little while..._

His musings were so troubling that Gil almost failed to see the Chat Request box light up the corner of his screen.

Upon his gaze falling on the icon, his posture immediately became erect, and his hands almost pounced onto the screen to hit the Accept tab.

Having been so shaken out of his reverie, he failed to notice the screen name of the person making the request.

"Hello, Grissom."

For a second, Gil's mind was not making sense of the image on the screen.

Expecting to see the brunette who occupied most every waking thought, for a moment his mind struggled to recognize the figure presented before him.

"Heather."

As her eyes blinked a bit slower than usual, her smile was warm as she leaned forward and spoke.

"Bet you are surprised to see me online again."

Gil looked at this woman, who had given him sanctuary when he had felt abandoned by Sara, with a soft smile before answering, "You aren't who I was waiting for."

Ignoring the unintended double entendre of his reply, Heather continued with a slight laugh, "Hmm. Then I think I'll have to research this phenomenon of men being stood up _online_."

He flinched a bit then pulled on his poker face swiftly, but not quick enough to hide from Heather's practiced gaze.

"How have you been, Gil? Missing home yet?"

Before he replied, she added, "Now that Allison is spending more time with her grandfather I find myself with too much time on my hands. So I've been spending...no, _making_ time…to …reconnect…with the few important friends of my past."

At this, Gil smiled and said, "Heather – you make it sound as if see yourself as old and have been away from civilization for awhile."

In a coquettish turn of her head, she replied, "No, Gil…that sounds much more like you."

Despite his distracted concern with Sara, he found himself chuckling out loud.

These few minutes talking with someone from home who really knew him and who showed enjoyment in his company was like a balm, soothing away the pain of his loneliness.

Smiling, Gil leaned back comfortably in his chair and said, "Heather…you do know how to make me laugh."

Seemingly pleased that she had elicited such a response from him, Heather as always remained in control of the "who" and "what" that constituted any conversation with Grissom.

She decided now was a good time to drop a little bombshell carefully into their conversation.

"I saw Sara recently."

Seeing Gil's expression morph into concern caused Heather a great deal of satisfaction in having his total attention now riveted on her.

"How? Where? Is she alright?" he rushed.

Shaking her head slowly, Heather's eye contact remained unbroken as if she had forgotten to blink.

"Well, I can see Sara still can make your pulse rise."

As Gil opened his mouth to protest the obvious slur towards his adored wife, Heather continued, "Actually, it was a …professional…visit."

Giving him just enough time to recall that she was now a certified Sex Therapist, Heather paused dramatically as she saw Gil drawing and redrawing conclusions in his head based on this new information.

Again cutting him off before he spoke, she added, "She and Dr. Langston were investigating a murder of one of my former clients."

Knitting his brow, the scientist was obviously in need of more facts and asked, "The Dominion?"

Raising her own eyebrows in reply, almost to intimate he had wounded her by his remark, she replied, "No. A current client."

Heather took Gil's relief as being caused by her continuing to move forward with her life and not reverting to her former method of doing business.

However, she may have been less pleased to know that his relief stemmed from Sara not being involved in a case that had anything to do with Heather's former line of work.

_It would have stirred up too many bad memories about that place…about the time I'd spent there…about all that happened with Heather…_

His distraction caused him to miss the beginning of her next topic.

"…contact with anyone back home?"

Trying to clear his head, Grissom answered what he gauged was the initial question.

"No…ahh…no I haven't."

Heather disguised her pleasure at the revelation. After all, she assumed they kept nothing from each other.

So when she had asked, "And have you mentioned to Sara that you had received a contact with anyone back home?" meaning her last unexpected SKYPE contact, she relaxed in the mistaken knowledge of his unintended reply.

After all, she still recalled her question to him so long ago: "_Am I your secret?"_

_Not then, but …perhaps now…_

Heather smiled as she thought about how things were falling into place…

_Three weeks ago, as Gil was finishing reading a disappointing email from Sara that she would be in night court and would miss their session, his face lit up at the Chat Request box suddenly signaling a contact._

_Again, overjoyed that somehow she had gotten free time, he accepted the invitation and had been shocked to find Heather's lovely smile gracing his screen._

_She reveled in his shocked disposition and admitted to his stunned silence that she "had a friend who had a friend" who had set up her computer. Apparently this man was some type of genius for whom nothing was out of his realm of software expertise. _

_Heather explained he used his" resources" and had gotten some SKYPE addresses so that she was able to contact a few important friends – and he had been the first person she could think of to attempt to contact._

_Their conversation didn't last long, but as usual Heather could make Gil so comfortable that he began to tell her about the Moche grave dig and his extended stay at the government's request._

_But he had categorically refused any attempts to discuss the possible effect of his prolonged absence on his relationship with Sara._

_Upon her inevitable contact with Sara, Heather had used the little information she had managed to pry out of Grissom and had been pleased with the glimpse of the hurt she had seen in those brown depths before the CSI retreated to work-mode and resisted thinking about personal matters._

_Yet, Heather was sure she had opened the door to private speculation on Sara's part which would be inevitable in the hours of tossing and turning in her lonely marriage bed._

Returning to the present conversation, Heather inhaled deeply and spoke, "Well, Gil, I must be off. Allison will soon be here and I have a party dress I need to finish hemming for her."

Gil chuckled that he had never thought of her as a domesticated woman.

Heather pursed her lips a bit seductively and said, "Well, I would prefer…domesticated _goddess_."

At this, Grissom laughed aloud although he did not realize Heather was being only partially facetious.

"It was good talking with you, Gil. Perhaps next time, it will be YOU requesting a chat?"

"Take good care of yourself, Heather, and of Allison. It was nice to hear from you."

"Bye, Gil."

And with that, he ended the session and checked his email inbox once more.

The smile fell from his face as the screen barked, "You have no mail."

The rush of connection from Heather's chat was gone. A lonely man's finger shut down his computer.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Can't believe I keep forgetting to post these author's notes!...it's the only way I can tell you how much I appreciate your reviews, and to remind everyone that I am totally committed (or at least my friends often say I should be) to GSR, so no worries there!...remember, the posting schedule is every other day...I'm trying to find time to write, so I might not get back to all of your reviews, but I wish you to know they really mean a lot!...hope you will enjoy this update...

DISCLAIMER: These CSI characters are not mine, or else we'd be watching them on screen every week...

Chapter 3

It was a beautiful night on the UNLV campus.

The foyer of the lecture hall was packed with students, faculty, and VIPs enjoying the welcoming reception for Dr. Wilson.

Greg strode confidently through the open-door entrance to the festivities, proud to wear Tessa on his arm as they entered the gala.

Sara walked demurely just a step behind them, using their close proximity almost as a shield while her heart began thumping wildly in her chest.

She really hated this type of affair, particularly when she had no firm arm to grasp for support.

Sara missed her husband.

He was her "one and only".

And, for a while, she had accepted that she was his.

She had not slept well over the last few nights, as if her stubborn intent at remaining awake would ward off the unwelcomed nightmares.

Greg's sudden step away from Tessa brought Sara out of her thoughts – and directly into the line of sight of tonight's featured lecturer.

A soft smirk found its way to her now-blushing cheeks as Sara had her first glimpse of the now-matured Philip Wilson.

Her mind quickly compared this current vision of him to the last memory of their time together strolling the downtown streets near the Harvard campus at daybreak of Graduation Day.

_Philip Wilson had been roommates with Ken Fuller since their freshman year at Harvard._

_These two polar opposites found an unlikely friendship that Sara would have identified as "hero worship" on the part of Philip._

_Ken Fuller was a "man's man" who was noticed by all the women on campus and despised by the men who weren't part of Harvard's "elite"._

_Perhaps that had been Ken's unconscious hold over Philip._

_Despite the fact that often Ken viewed him as almost his lackey, sending him to do his dirty work on more than one occasion, Philip did thrive as a slightly-backward addition to every social event that Ken initiated._

_And when Ken left Sara high-and-dry that night at the campus fair following their return from their Spring Break trip, it had been Philip who so gently and caringly had done all he could to make her abandonment less painful._

_A late-term friendship had sparked between the two and, although there had been a smattering of kisses and hugs, Philip had always realized his attraction to Sara was totally one-sided._

_They had talked in length about his perception that Sara had closed off her heart after this last betrayal, and Sara had attempted to get his focus off her situation by remarking that he should bottle up his insights and sell them to all the "lonely hearts" in the world._

_And when Sara had kissed his cheek before their final goodbye on graduation night, she had meant it when she told him she was confident that a terrific guy like him was going to go far in the world._

Lost in her memories, Sara hadn't noticed the crowd thinning around the approaching gentleman.

A bit taller than Sara, his impeccably coifed sandy brown hair sported the slightest bit of gray which made him look distinguished and knowledgeable.

He was of great figure, too; a physique that now turned the head of more than one young lady in the room.

But it was his smile – a gentle curve of lips that was highlighted by the glint of something…mischief?...that had melted many a heart over the years.

But tonight, there was only one woman for whom that smile was intended.

Raising her eyes as she came back from her musings, Sara's own delighted smile rivaled the heavens at the sight of her old friend now mere inches before her.

They both stood stalk-still, smiling like two youngsters at an inside joke.

"I can't believe it. Sara Sidle!" Philip spoke, the pleased excitement in his voice upon saying her name called Sara to another time and place.

A memory gnawed at Sara's gut for a moment, but right here in this venue there were no experimental bodies being thrown from a rooftop.

Sara forced her smile wider as if to defy the memory from surfacing.

"Present and accounted for!" she quipped in a faux-military response.

Next thing she knew, Philip had moved forward to kiss her cheek and wrap her in his warm embrace.

Sara couldn't stop herself from closing her eyes to greedily soak in the much needed comfort.

She missed Gil.

Missed his strong arms that would pull her into their warmth and erase all her fears until she felt whole again.

His strength gave silent promise that she was his one and only.

She wondered if she might ever trust those arms again.

Pulling back before she became too emotional, Sara started as she noticed Greg's piercing glare before he resumed his casual demeanor and offered his hand to this man.

After introductions were made, Tessa pulled out a brand new copy of the author's latest book, Road Signs: How To Know When Your Lover Is Having An Affair.

Not having time to read up on Philip's career, the title of his newest book caught Sara's attention and caused a chill to run down her spine.

Unabashed, the young lab tech held the book and pen that she seemed to pull out of thin air and thrust them forward with a demure dip of her head. "I wondered…"

Graciously, Philip took both and asked her name. In response, Tessa stammered and Greg quickly supplied the information – as much to help out his girlfriend as to lay claim to the blonde beauty.

Smiling, Philip took more than a moment to write a personalized note before signing off with a flourish and returning the items to the now wildly-excited Tessa.

But instead of continuing that conversation, Philip turned towards Sara and took both hands in his.

"Eat you later?" he asked softly, and his heart warmed at the joyous laugh that bubbled from Sara's smiling lips.

_The first time Philip Wilson had ever uttered those words they were friendly commands, separated and distinctly punctuated as he pointed his brotherly finger into Sara's tear-stained face: Eat! You! Later!_

_They both had stood there stunned at the suggestive implications of his words. A red blush had bloomed from his neck up, and Philip had raised both hands defensively, his soothing voice now reduced to stammer, "NO!...uh…no…I…uh…I just-"_

_Suddenly, the sound of Sara's throaty laugh pierced through his discomfort. It was in her nature to be a true friend, so she hugged him tightly to assure him that she found his faux pas amusing._

_Subsequently, those words had morphed into an almost singular word, becoming their catchphrase that could be found written on the back of partially- read novels stashed in lockers, scratched in the late winter frost on dorm windows, and slid under doorways on ripped pieces of notebook paper as Philip watched over Sara and made sure she was taking better care of herself and eating properly._

_She had felt cared for by his actions, and was happy finally to have good memories made sharing a brown bag meal with Philip on the grassy commons._

_Sara remembered laying alone in her dorm room many nights thinking that one day she would find a man who could treat her with respect and prove himself loyal and faithful, be a wonderful lover –a soulmate – but one who also would be a friend as kind and caring as Philip Wilson…_

"Well…Greg here _did_ promise to buy dinner later…if you're free…" Sara spoke with unusual confidence and was pleased when Philip deliberately turned towards her even as he acknowledged the host for the evening was moving towards him to request the start of the evening's lecture.

"Just…don't go anywhere…I'll meet you at our spot as soon as this is over..." he rushed out even as his arm was feeling a slight tug from the near-frantic director.

And with that, Sara stood and stared at her old friend who managed to glance over his shoulder twice at her before his smiling gaze was swallowed up by what she knew he would later laughingly refer to as "the maddening crowd".

An almost-tense voice broke through her musings.

"_Our_ spot?"


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: The stage is almost set…the angst is heating up…clues are being hidden…thanks for all the great reviews…another update in two days…hope you will enjoy this chapter…take care, Kathy…

Dinner was a fun affair.

Having met with Philip on the steps of the campus library (its Harvard counterpart having been Sara's "home away from home" during her college years and therefore "their" daily meeting place), the two couples talked about everything and nothing during their enjoyable meal at one of Vegas' trendier night spots.

Sara and Philip couldn't take their eyes off each other, relishing the reunion as old friends do.

In fact, they appeared to be so into each other that Tessa insisted on taking their picture before passing around the camera and capturing Philip in various group ensembles.

In reviewing the photos after everyone had been included, Philip smiled broadly at the pictures of Sara and him.

He asked Tessa to text him that photo, and she seemed overly excited to perform the task.

As Philip was reciting his phone number, Sara smiled at the flush of what she assumed was nervous energy in the young lab tech who was getting to interact with the man she had been so anxious to meet.

Sara also noted with amusement the slight frown on Greg's face as her hand was so close to Philips as their cell phones met in midair.

After a while, Tessa excused herself citing the need to powder her nose – a phrase which Greg found utterly adorable - prompting him to gallantly offer to escort her through the now-crowded bar area.

With a sweet kiss to his cheek, Greg's date admonished him that she was certainly able to get from there back to the table on her own.

His dejected look was adorable, and Tessa took pity on him asking instead that he check at the nightclub to find out if there was a jazz combo playing tonight.

With nods to the others at the table, the couple left in separate directions.

Alone at last, Sara and Philip sipped their drinks before relaxing back into the well-padded support of their corner booth.

The silence between them was comfortable, and for the first time in weeks Sara seemed to be letting her guard down.

"Want to talk about it?"

Philips soft request had a profound effect on Sara as she recalled all the times Gil had uttered those words in an effort to calm whatever was eating away at her.

Shaking her head softly, Sara inhaled deeply but remained silent.

Changing his tactic, Philip leaned towards her as he placed his arm around her.

"How about we shake these two and take a walk…clear your head…"

It was not so much a demand as a plea, and Sara recalled the many nights he had spoken those same words to her as their study group would branch off into some tiresome philosophical debate.

It was a welcomed memory, those words so ingrained that Sara would not fully realize them in her own use of that distinctive phrase a few years later in a different setting...

Smiling, she leaned in a bit towards him. Philip took her hand in his and linked their fingers together in a familiar act of friendly concern.

She was missing Gil so much, and the warmth emanating from this old friend's gesture was breaking through Sara's usual defensive shields.

Greg returned then, but if he registered surprise at the scene before him it was not apparent.

"Greg," Sara began, but was interrupted by Tessa's return.

Philip took that moment to whisper to Sara that he wouldn't be more than a moment as he took leave of her to head in the same direction from which Tessa had just emerged.

Sara's reply was a small gap-toothed smile before she turned back to the couple before her.

"Greg," she spoke again more forcefully to return her friend's attentions on her, "Philip and I are going to take off. You and Tessa enjoy the rest of the night."

Now Greg's eyebrow shot up, and he almost glared after Philip who was just disappearing through the crowd.

Yet his action went unseen as Sara was already retrieving her belongings from their seat.

"Uh, Sara," the young CSI gulped soundly as his mind ran successive scenarios of what could lay in store for his friend.

His thoughts stayed unspoken as Philip's low tones shocked Greg into silence.

"Ready, Sara?"

Another surprise as Sara gave Greg a peck on the cheek and in a heartfelt, "Thank you, Greg, for tonight," she took Philips proffered arm and with a small wave to Tessa they walked casually towards the door.

"Wow…they make such a handsome couple. They really seem "into" each other," Tessa said, but Greg didn't comment as he was also worrying that indeed his girlfriend had spoken nothing but the truth.

Hours passed, as Philip managed to get Sara to talk about her relationship with Gil before their marriage, but precious little after their union.

Without thinking, the pair had fallen back on an old habit of walking away from the nightlife and veering off onto a course that led them to quieter areas ideal for soul-bearing.

In Vegas, however, those areas led to darker venues nearer to the less-populated warehouse district.

And that was gang-controlled territory.

Having listened to Philip's quiet commentary on Sara's last revelation, she grabbed his arm tighter as she suddenly focused on their locale and realized that the area surrounding them had been near their latest crime scene involving the Snakebacks.

Twisting uncomfortably to view their location, Sara suddenly found the area too quiet.

Stopping to lean into Philip a bit closer, she looked up into his patient countenance with concerned eyes.

"We shouldn't be here," Sara said quietly, moving already to retrace their steps to a more populated site.

Grabbing her to him, Philip misunderstood her apprehension assuming she was becoming uncomfortable with her latest revelations .

Holding her in his arms, his one hand rose and moved an errant curl behind her ear as he spoke with a smile, "It's alright, Sarabelle. I won't bite."

Even the use of her old nickname didn't deter the fear that was forming in the pit of her stomach.

For just a moment, she could imagine the police report on the crime scene and the questions that the investigating team would ask: _What were these two doing walking out here in the middle of the night?_

Sara could envision Gil's shock and concern upon reading the report, and suddenly she wished to be miles away from this scene.

In the distance, a truck's backfire broke through the eerie silence and caused her to jump anxiously, followed by the sound of a car moving quickly around the corner.

Instinct had Sara twisting to run – her movements being stopped by the tightening grip of Philip's arms holding her closer to his chest questioning the fear that was radiating from her.

Sara's eyes widened as the car, now having flicked on its highbeams, seemed to accelerate in their direction, and she continued her vain struggling attempts to dislodge herself from her friend's protective embrace.

"Philip, please," she tried, her head shifting swiftly between the headlights that were barreling down on them and the questioning gaze of the man who now was turning to drag her further from the approaching threat towards the protection of the roadside bushes.

The next events played out like a scene from a B-movie.

Suddenly, the struggling couple was bathed in the strobe light now flashing from the vehicle as it came to a screeching stop almost next to them.

"Hands up!" yelled a familiar voice, and Sara felt her anxiety increase as she recognized the owner of that voice.

Philip complied readily albeit confused by the scene.

"You okay, doll?" the detective asked, moving between Sara and Philip protectively.

"Yeah…yes…" Sara stuttered as she moved to her earlier position closer to her old friend.

Brass continued to glare at Philip, and Sara realized the ball was in her court to explain the situation.

Upon finishing brief introductions, Jim seemed visibly more relaxed as if mentally commanding himself to "stand down" from the encounter.

His focus now on Sara, he chided her for knowing better, reminding her of the drug shoot-out they had recently processed just a few blocks from here.

"Guess we just lost track of time," she added apologetically with a small smile to Philip.

Brass seemed unamused.

"Let me give you a ride back to your car," his offer more of a command than suggestion.

"Actually, I came with Greg to the lecture earlier," Sara added, a bit upset at Brass' glare.

"And, uh, actually I was picked up at the airport and don't have a car either," replied Philip, which made the detective's ire increase.

The ridiculous thought that she hadn't realized that neither of them had transportation somehow struck Sara as ironically funny at that moment.

Although the men looked at her questioningly, her laugh seemed to diffuse some of the tension settled among the trio.

Twenty minutes later, Brass' unmarked car was pulling in front of the Bellagio hotel on the strip.

Philip looked for a long moment at Sara before turning to the driver's seat expressing his thanks.

"Let's just not make this need for chauffeur service a habit, okay Pal?" Brass responded with his trademark friendly tone, much to Sara's annoyance at the cheek of his message.

Jim was surprised when Sara moved to leave the car behind Philip.

"Hey, Sara?…I'll be here to take you home when you're done in there," his words a silent reminder that she shouldn't be staying too long.

"Thanks, but I'll see myself home, Brass," her use of his surname an attempt to let him know she meant business.

But Jim was an old friend who couldn't help but feel protective towards this young woman whom he loved as a daughter.

"No need…whenever you're ready…it's my night off…" he replied with conviction causing Sara to feel as if she were on a parent-driven first date.

Stubbornly, she turned from the waiting car that now had the removable strobe safely tucked back into the center console and strode heavily towards the doorman who was greeting the couple's entrance.

Once inside the grand lobby with its vaulted ceiling and crystal chandeliers, she turned to Philip as they both let out a chuckle.

"I'm sorry," she began demurely, but Philip just put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close in a move similar to what Nick had done a thousand times before.

"Well, this visit to Vegas will certainly be one for the books," he spoke as she turned bright eyes at him.

Their movements slowed as they approached the elevators with their eyes locked.

Philip shook his head and reached out to return Sara's trademark errant curl behind her ear.

An innocent, comforting gesture that to a stranger certainly could be construed as something more.

The gesture was so familiar that for a moment the lobby disappeared, and Sara wouldn't have been surprised to have turned from Philip's smiling gaze to find herself perched on the steps of an ivy-covered dorm.

Sara's intention was to apologize to Philip for needing their "dramatic" rescue, thank him for the walk down memory lane, and escape to her home to try and put this evening in some perspective.

And, perhaps, boot up her computer in the off-chance she might catch Gil online, eager to tell him of tonight's reunion with her dear friend.

_Just needing to hear his voice_…

She was really needing all of him.

In the quiet moments of these last two weeks, her body ached for his physical presence.

Not just in a sexual reference.

His strong arms had always been her haven from the stress of the present and the haunting of her past.

Sara just hadn't found a way past her insecurities to have an open, honest discussion with her husband, the man who held her heart…and who she had trusted when he had promised never to knowingly hurt her again…

Pushing these thoughts away, Sara turned to reach out for the button that would summon the elevator for her friend.

Her fingers drew back suddenly, and Sara instinctively grasped onto Philip's arm that still circled her waist as she now found herself face-to-face with the last person on earth she expected to encounter tonight.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: First, a great shout-out to aninom for sending me the information on the Moche burial sites – you're the best!...also, thanks again and again for such great reviews of the story so far…this chapter begins the mystery…all mistakes are mine…hope you will enjoy…next update in two days…take care…-Kathy

_A few hours before…_

It was excessively hot and humid, conditions that would create a time-out on field work until the tropical rain would fall later that day to return the camp to a healthier climate.

But inside the small cabin it was not the temperature outside that was creating a certain pulse to rise.

Working in the valley investigating the Moche burial sites had been easier, as the cooler temperatures of the lower elevations had created almost ideal working conditions.

Now that the original site had been explored and catalogued, Gil had agreed to once again head up into mountains to continue adding his expertise to the long-standing government museum project.

It was that decision to volunteer for an extended stay assignment with which Gil found himself in endless debate in the last few sleepless nights.

Although midday was not the usual time for Gil to surf the Internet, having the afternoon free called for some sedentary activity and checking his email seemed like a casual enough task.

At first, the email marked "For Your Eyes Only" caused him only a slightest mental shrug as it was not that unusual for him to receive sensitive information.

That was until he realized the email address was unknown to him.

Relying on the government-run camp computer system's SPAM filter, the scientist in him dismissed any notion that this was from an undesirable site.

After all, few people besides Sara had access to this email account.

Curiosity had gotten him far in his lifetime, yet the old adage about the cat might have had some basis in truth.

His blood boiled and heart raced as the image cleared and taunted its message before him.

The words "_While the cat's away…"_ mocked him from below the photo of a smiling Sara who was staring raptly into the eyes of an unknown male, his arm wrapped almost around her.

_His_ Sara.

In the embrace of that strikingly masculine form seated next to her.

He gasped aloud at the sight.

It suddenly seemed like forever since he'd seen his lovely wife.

_Lord, but she is beautiful._

His training kicked in as he scrutinized the photo.

Gil licked his lips as he catalogued every feature of her beauty, her long neck, the hint of cleavage hidden as if fodder for his imagination.

Gil remembered the last time Sara had worn that outfit.

She had modeled for him this exact dress that she had bought especially for the event at the Deaf Institute's award dinner.

Although he'd not yet returned to the states in the weeks following the dinner, that SKYPE chat had been one that pleasant dreams were made of for many nights afterwards.

It made this current situation that much more disturbing.

His reputation as an intense science geek belied a truth not generally suspected: Gil Grissom had a jealous streak.

Oh, it reared its ugly head from time to time, as when he sent Sara solo to work on that cheerleader case as a penance for being in Pahrump on a date with "that paramedic".

Or when he sent two dung beetles to a crushing death in reaction to Greg's over-the-top flirting with Sara during one particularly tense shift.

Or when he sent Greg on a return trip to the dumpster that same night in search of evidence that Grissom "forgot" he had already catalogued…

Holding his head in his hands as he tore his eyes away from the screen, Gil refused to accept that this was any more than a cruel joke.

_I trust you, Sara…I do…please…Sara…_

_Don't break my heart…_

When Gil reopened his eyes, they were a bit greener than before.

Yet, they softened as his mind dismissed everything in that photo and focused only on the face of the one person he would love until his dying day.

Gil's face took on a wistful air as he zoned in on Sara's face, recalling that smile being directed at him on their wedding day.

_It was brighter, though, and she just never stopped smiling…not after I wiped those happy tears from her cheeks, not after we rode back to our rooms wrapped in each other, not even after we made love again and again as the warm breezes wafted through the billowing curtains and the stars softly illumined our marriage bed…_

That memory swelled overwhelming feelings inside him, making Gil realize how dead he had really been all this while that he had thrown himself into his work.

_Somehow, she's managed there…alone…even though I promised her and myself that I'd never allow myself to be parted from her for very long, ever again…_

_How could I have survived all this time without remembering?_

He ached upon reviewing the photo, but he was no longer responding to the taunt.

Instead, his whole body reacted to the image of his wife's smile.

My _wife._

My _love_.

_My _Sara.

Unbidden, every stalking case he ever worked suddenly flashed through is mind.

It occurred to him that if someone had sent him that photo, then someone was watching Sara, following her…

His stomach knotted as the implications became uglier upon reflection.

_Natalie followed Sara, before…before…_

Sweat that was not heat-related started to pour down his temples.

Gil forced himself to lean back and calm down, as those temples started throbbing in a way that meant temporary incapacitation if he didn't stop the migraine in its tracks.

A few deep breaths, a frantic opening of a pill bottle, and one giant swig of a water bottle later, Gil had stilled his racing heart…but had only fueled his determination.

Moving to stand towards the south window which experience had taught afforded him the best chance at uninterrupted cell phone service, Gil took a final glance at Sara's on-screen image before he snapped open his phone to place a call to a person he knew had never let him down...

_Presently…_

The crowded hotel lobby seemed stifling as Sara watched Heather's practiced glare move from Philip to her and then onto his arms which now felt awkwardly entwined around her.

Internally screaming for herself to breathe calmly, Sara stood a bit straighter as she plastered a smile on her face.

"Heather…I'm surprised to see you here."

A long pause and another surveillant sweep of those dark eyes before Heather spoke.

"No doubt."

But Sara was not going to engage this _woman_ in verbal sparring.

She'd had enough personal experience with Heather's practiced drawl to know it only left her feeling vulnerable and defeated.

Instead, the smile remained as Sara infused her gracious manner into the mix.

"Dr. Philip Wilson, this is Dr. Heather Kessler. Heather, this is my friend, Philip."

A slight twitch in Heather's eyebrow was the only indication of her surprise in Sara's revelation.

Surely if this woman was involved in cheating on her husband, she would not continue to be standing here with another man's arm still circling her waist.

The moment seemed to drag on as Philip moved back slightly from Sara as he noted Heather forming conclusions as to his role as "friend".

Instead, his arm moved from its former position as he extended it towards Heather.

"Dr. Kessler…yes, your name precedes you."

Smiling provocatively at his response, Heather lowered her eyes a bit before returning to seek his gaze.

"Thank you, Philip."

Sara's stomach roiled as she wondered just _which_ reputation to which Philip was referring.

"No, thank _you_ for the invitation to speak here during the seminar," he continued, and somehow Sara breathed a bit easier.

Turning to include Sara in the conversation, Philip added, "Apparently, Heather was on the UNLV search committee for this event."

Placing her hand on his forearm in response, Heather then added, "And what a good choice that was."

Philip smiled broadly and moved to speak again before his face morphed into an almost crestfallen look.

His head jerked towards Sara in an almost comical act.

"Keys."

"Excuse me?" Sara reacted with a shake of her head.

Looking back towards Heather, Philip explained, "I was running late from the airport. The van driver brought my bags here and told me the room number."

Returning his gaze to Sara, he chuckled, "Except they didn't give me any keys."

Philip reached out to hold Sara's hands before speaking, "Just excuse me for a minute."

With a nod to Heather, he moved swiftly back towards the reception desk.

Leaving Sara face-to-face with the last person with whom she wanted to be alone.

The idea of escape shot into her mind as she began, "Well, I guess I'll –"

But Heather had other ideas.

"He's quite a striking appealing figure, isn't he?" she began with a swift glance in the direction of Philip's departure.

Wrapping her arms around herself defensively, Sara added, "Philip has always been."

Her eyebrows risen in challenge, Heather replied, "Do tell."

Gloves off, Sara returned, "Not to you."

Volleying back, Heather smile held a vicious undertone. "So, there _is_ something to tell?"

Hands up in a blocking posture, Sara answered, "The past is the past."

Intrigued, Heather served, "Ah, but some sparks can lay dormant only so long…before time and distance rekindle them into a flame that burns _deliciously_ hotter than before."

Rally…over.

The fates smiled kindly on Sara as suddenly Philip returned, and not alone.

"Lady Heather?" Greg's voice showed his shock as his eyes quickly darted to Sara as if to ask, "What?Who?How?"

"Heather, you might not remember Greg Saunders from the Crime Lab, and our new lab tech, Tessa Redwood."

Heather glanced perfunctorily at Tessa, choosing instead to focus her attention on Greg's scowl.

"_Doctor_ Heather Kessler," she corrected him with a kind smile.

Greg glanced back again at Sara before facing forward self-consciously, "Of course…_Doctor_…."

Seeing his discomfort, Sara spoke, "Greg? What are you two doing here?" immediately hoping the answer would not put her friend in an embarrassing position.

Tessa spoke up quickly, her eyes flicking admiringly towards Philip, "No jazz band at the club, so we stayed at the bar for a while, and decided to take a stroll on the Strip. And then Greg remembered that the Bellagio had a nightclub that sometimes had a jazz trio – and here we all are!"

Greg could feel the anxiety coming off Sara in waves.

Responding to Tessa's last words, he pulled Tessa closer to him and began to steer them towards the lobby with a "And here we are going!"

With a short wave to Sara, Greg moved his date out of the line of fire.

"Well, it's been a pleasure to meet you," a voice broke through the tension, "but if you will excuse us…" Philip spoke cordially as he turned slightly to press the elevator call button.

His actions effectively ended the conversation as he could see that being in Heather's presence was painful for Sara.

Almost smug in also registering her effect on the brunette, Heather bowed her head slightly as in submission to Philip's request before moving away from the couple and disappearing into the crowded hotel lobby.

"You're shaking," Philip said as he moved his arm protectively around Sara whose gaze was locked on the path Heather had last taken.

"C'mon," he spoke quietly as Sara turned and followed him onto the elevator.

Glad they were alone so she had time to collect herself, it wasn't until the double doors slid closed that Sara felt she could finally take a deep breath.

A moment later, she found herself being guided into Philip's room and led to the large sofa overlooking a stunning view of Vegas nightlife.

Setting next to her, Philip took hold of Sara's hands and then reached up to flip that curl behind her ear as he spoke softly.

"I take it I've met the _other woman_?"

Sara's eyes flashed a warning into his serious gaze.

"What are you talking about?" she demanded.

With a sigh, Philip leaned over the computer table to grab onto a copy of his latest novel.

Waving it before her for effect, he held her gaze as he spoke.

"Sara…I research couples for a living, I collect evidence, I do interviews –" he started when she interrupted.

"Sounds a lot like what I do as a CSI," she spoke, hoping that she could alter the path of this conversation.

He tried a different tack.

Leaning back a bit, Philip rested his arm across the back of the couch, his body language leaving him open towards Sara as if to offer an invitation to hug.

"I'm proud of you."

Only Sara's eyes moved, whipping towards him questioningly.

Nodding slightly to accentuate his point, Philip continued, "It's true. She obviously had been trying to get a rise out you, and you refused to take the bait."

Receiving no response, he continued, "At least…you seemed to."

Silence reigned for a moment, until Sara spoke quietly, "She's his perfect match…in every way."

Philip didn't move a muscle as he allowed that comment to fill the room for a long moment before he spoke softly.

"And yet…he chose _you_."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thanks so much for the great reviews and pm's…I have to smile at how protective you are of Sara, and yet how worried some of you are about what she's doing to Gil…it really is a mess right now…more clues are hidden and some answers are revealed…all mistakes are mine…more in two days…hope you will enjoy this chapter…your comments are appreciated…Kathy

Sara spoke with Philip for the next hour, the time passing swiftly as it does with old friends.

His comment about "time healing all wounds" brought her attention to the hour, and with a start she stood with wide eyes and uttered a word that explained her sudden movements.

"Brass."

It took Philip a moment to recall why that name sounded familiar, then he stood with the recognition and moved to usher Sara to the door.

He opened it, leaning against the frame as Sara brushed by him before turning as he grabbed her shoulder lightly.

Looking up at him, Sara's mouth lifted is a crooked smile.

She leaned forward and bussed his cheek softly before looking into his eyes.

"It was great…Philip…thanks…for everything."

Philip just smiled and returned that recalcitrant curl to its home behind her ear.

"No problem, Sarabelle. Will I see you tomorrow? I have one more lecture before my flight out on Friday."

A true smile graced her lips as she dug out a contact card from her wallet and penned her home phone on the back.

He smiled as she handed it to him and moved out into the hallway.

"Talk to you tomorrow, Philip. I'll be back at work for night shift, but maybe we can get together before then."

"Oooh, can't wait…eatyoulater!" he responded and was graced with Sara's incredulous laugh.

"You _are_ incorrigible!"

Her words sounded scolding, but her smile was genuine.

Philip watched as the elevator doors closed with Sara safely inside before returning to his room and locking his own door.

That action caused him to miss the quiet click of the EXIT door leading to the stairwell at the end of the hall…

Sara was in no mood for small talk as she all but slammed closed the passenger door to Brass' car.

Having stirred him from his comfortable position, a glance over at her clenched jaw left Jim with no doubt as to the current mood of this person he loved like a daughter.

"Sara-" he began softly, but she raised her hand in protest.

Nodding his head in understanding, the off-duty detective decided to give her a little space.

Once they reached her home, he'd force her to confide in him as to just what the hell was going on.

The drive was long considering their impasse, and Brass sighed quietly as he pulled behind her car at the curb.

Glancing up, he was reminded of the first time Gil and Sara had invited him to their new home.

Looking over at Sara now, Jim wondered what had been happening to cause such a sadness to loom over her.

She seemed almost surprised as the car engine stopped, and her challenging glare did not seem to affect the driver as he opened his door and casually looked over his shoulder and snarked, "Coming?"

Waiting until she opened the door, Sara turned on her old friend and started to argue that it was late before Jim cut her off with an impassioned, "He was worried about you."

Those words, and their implication, stopped her cold and brought moisture to cloud her saddened eyes.

Sara turned away from Jim but not before he spied her reaction.

Suddenly she was enveloped in his fatherly hug, and again Sara found herself craving the comfort of his warmth.

"He called me," Jim began and felt her react but refused to release her from his hold.

"He was worried about you. Told me he called you on your cell, at home, at the lab, numerous times and was almost frantic when he couldn't reach you."

Alarmed, Sara pulled back to beg, "Is he alright? Did something happen to him? Is he hurt?"

It bothered Jim to think that Sara felt the only reason Gil needed her was because of some calamity.

A large hand raised to softly cup her cheek, "He's fine, Sara. Just…he couldn't find you. He needed to talk to you, that's all."

Sara's heart leapt at the thought that Gil wanted her.

"My cell…I left it on the counter…forgot my pager…it was my night off, but then I wasn't worried because Greg was also on call," Sara tried to explain before Brass' message replayed in her head causing her eyes to swing towards the answering machine.

Three messages.

Sara moved silently and pressed the button urgently, her face morphing in anxiety as her lover's voice filled their home and her heart.

"_Honey!...Are you home?...Sara?...okay, uhhhh…okay…listen, honey, call my cell or just text me...soon as you hear this, okay?...okay…uhhh..(whispered okay before the click)…"_

"_Sara?...listen…I tried your cell, but it went to voicemail…honey, if you're sleeping please wake up…(pause)…(sigh)…okay, hope you're okay…call me as soon as you get this, okay?...Sara?... please just call me…"_

"_Sara…I called the lab, you're not on schedule tonight…are you home, honey?...(long pause)…Sara, I'm opening my Internet connection…either call me or IM me as soon as you get this…honey, please call me…I need (pause) I need to hear from you soon as you can, okay?"_

"So then he called _you_," Sara turned towards Brass, hoping to get some answers to this puzzle.

"He was worried, Sara. About _you_. When he didn't hear from you-"

"Why? I missed talking with him for _two days_!" Sara almost yelled defensively as her own guilt about avoiding their daily chats ate away at her peace of mind.

"Hey, listen…all I know is I'm sittin' on my comfy couch relaxing with a beer at the start of my two-day reprieve from that place when my phone rings, and he starts coming through the phone at me about have I seen you, are you alright, has something happened, am I keeping something from him, and what do I know about some guy you were with-"

He closed his eyes tightly as he turned away from her to move steadily towards the living room.

_You just never know when to close your big mouth, do you..._

Brass didn't have to turn to know that Sara was steaming at that last comment.

She hadn't moved a muscle since he'd uttered the words that had stoked the flames of her anger.

Shaking her head in annoyance, Sara wrapped her arms about herself – a move that made Jim want to hold her close to offer comfort.

But he knew better than to speak at this exact moment.

An inner battle was raging in her head, and her heart hurt at the implications.

_Thousands of miles between us and the only thing he worries about is that I'm "out on the town" with "some guy"!_

Tears sprung swiftly as her sense of justice blinded her momentarily.

_He's worried that _I'm_ cheating on _him…_when he knows how I feel about _her…_and he never thought it important enough to mention to me that they were still in contact with each other…_

Sara stood there finally admitting to herself that she was devastated and heartbroken over the betrayal she felt when Heather was more than happy to divulge the fact that she'd kept in contact with Gil.

Or rather…that _Gil _had kept in contact with _her_.

_All those nights he looked me in the eye and talked about missing being home…I'm so stupid…he was just missing being in Vegas…and probably missed going over there for "high tea"…and some of Heather's "special dessert"…_

Memories of the juicy details of Grissom's involvement with Lady Heather that had assaulted her while lab techs gossiped freely all those years ago now fueled her latent insecurities and sent Sara's tired mind into overdrive.

She was becoming irrational, getting herself so spun up that she pulled back harshly as she felt Jim's hand on her forearm.

"Sara," he spoke soothingly, worried about that haunted look he had seen her wear only a few times before and had hoped to never see again.

They both jumped as their quiet interlude ended by the shrill sound of Jim's cell.

Clicking it open, Brass offered Sara the device as they both viewed "Grissom Mobile" on the screen.

She surprised him by raising one hand in an offensive manner before raising it to her trembling lips and darting to the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her.

Cursing under his breath at his ignorance of just what the hell was happening with her, Jim answered the phone curtly, "Yeah."

He cut off the flurry of questions, almost angry in his response.

"She's fine. She was…you know what?...she's _home_…where _you_ should be…safe for now, but not too happy, if you get my drift."

After a pause, he lightened his tone as he made to respond to the relieved questions at the other end.

"How is she?...Sara's "fine"…does that tell you anything?...cause I gotta say, pal, something is just not right here…no, I'm not picking up on anything…okay…you know I will…just – listen…looks to me as if she's having a rough time right now…a little TLC might not be out-of-order here, capishe?"

A heavy sigh on the other end was then followed by another inquiry.

"Sure, no problem…but if I'm out on a call, I'm sure Catherine would be glad to…"

Another request made Brass turn towards the closed bedroom door.

"Sorry, pal…she's…uh…out like a light…she's been working a lot of overtime this week…no, that wouldn't be a good idea…yeah, well, this has to be about what _she_ needs right now…okay, I'll tell her you wanted to…yeah…okay, keep me posted."

He almost closed the phone before he heard the last request.

With the last memory of Sara's teary eyes tugging at his heartstrings, Brass inhaled deeply before responding.

"Right now, I think that's something she'd be better off hearing from you in person."

Gil paced his room attempting to finish his task, the activity level definitely agitated.

His computer sounding a new message, he hastily dropped the articles in his hand as they fell to the bed with a clunking sound.

Peering down to examine his inbox, Gil's hopeful smile vanished as angry lines appeared.

He clicked on the new message that repeated a now-familiar address line.

The pixels took a second to coalesce, and the image on the screen caused Gil's heart to shudder as his body dropped heavily onto his seat.

He felt his jaw tightening as his expert eyes reviewed the scene.

_A hotel corridor._

_A doorway._

_A kiss._

_Sara…_


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks to everyone for reading and especially those who review…things are heating up, and Sara's insecurities seem to be getting the best of her…hang on, as help is only a chapter or two away…hope you enjoy this update…more in two days…take care, Kathy

Sara opened her eyes which felt heavy from the tears that continued past her nightmare.

She was sure it was the echo of her screaming pleas that reverberated through the silence of their bedroom.

_Their_ bedroom. Looking around at everything in the room that reminded her of the husband she loved only made the shivers from that nightmare increase.

Looking down, she found the reason for some of her physical discomfort as her dress lay tightly wound against her hips in direct testament to the night she'd spent tossing and turning through the tumult of her dreams.

She closed her eyes, wishing to shake off the impressions left from the stark images of her dream.

_She was peering through the pattern of thick lace curtains, but could see no movement in the rooms before her._

_The door opened on its own volition, as she found herself floating in the way dreamwalks do._

_Hearing the clink of china and a smattering of hushed voices, Sara felt herself propelled forward without her bidding._

_Trying to raise her voice to announce her presence, she found herself mute as her body turned the corner._

_The room smelled of violets and the darkness of the dream's edges only served to highlight the Victorian charm of the setting._

_The clink of china again brought her attention to the lavishly set table for two between the billowing curtains showcasing the opened window and the silken setting of the large poster bed with its bedding tousled as if to tell the story of the previous night's activities._

_The sound repeated itself as a bare, ivory-skinned back stretched from its sedentary position in the center of the bed to replace the imported china teapot onto the bedside table._

_Following the movement, Sara heard a gasp and quickly realized it had not escaped from her own lips._

_Recognition of its owner caused Sara to lose her balance and lean a bit heavily on the opened doorway._

_That movement caused the owner of that shivering sound to turn and look Sara up and down with obvious disdain._

_Turning back around, the woman started to raise herself up in an action Sara expected would cause the woman to leave the bed and then bring them face-to-face in the doorway._

_Instead, the lanky form immediately sat back down a bit forcefully only to repeat the motion of rising to her knees._

_To Sara's horror she watched it happen again and again._

_The clink of a teacup being set onto a saucer drew Sara's attention to the other occupant of that scene whose view had been blocked by Heather's movements._

_To her horror, it was Gil's face that appeared - with eyes half-lidded in an ecstatic expression that up to now Sara felt had been for her private view._

_She watched as Heather continued while Gil pressed the teacup to his lips before sipping slowly as he watched the dance doing magic to his body._

_Sara felt sick, but her feet were like concrete blocks that refused to move._

_Yet, Gil seemed to be nothing more than relaxed, almost observing rather than experiencing what was happening to him._

_Finally, he rolled over enough to place the cup and saucer on the table, in effect pinning Heather beneath him._

_He was now poised with his strong arms on either side of Heather's amazing body, and his stance kept her connected to him…but he did not move._

_Instead, he turned his head and spoke directly to Sara in that familiar tone which was neither placating nor understanding._

"_Where were _you_, Sara? I wanted _you. _I chose_ you. _Why wasn't that enough for you?"_

_With that, Sara couldn't bear the sight any longer as her fingers clawed the doorway in an attempt to release her from this spot._

_She cried and she scratched but the nightmare held her in place._

_She only managed to exhaust herself when all the while she heard the sounds of pleasure increase in pounding crescendo just inches from where she stood._

_Sara clamped her eyes shut, continued her arms' frantic movements, tried to shut out the memories of how Gil looked and sounded when he was near his own climax._

_In her horror the images blended with the sounds of him bringing Heather to the edge and back again and again and again and again, all the while shouting for Gil to stop…please, stop…please, just stop…please, don't do this…don't make me stay here…don't leave me here…don't…don't leave me…_

Sara forcefully pulled herself out of bed, breathing hard as she tried to regain her composure.

She couldn't shake the accusing images of the nightmare from her head.

She needed to talk to Gil.

She needed to hear his voice, to know he was still in Peru…

That he was not with Heather.

Sara clutched the phone from her handbag and shook impatiently for service before hitting her speed dial to connect her with her husband.

She was feeling alone and scared, her heart pounding as if it would soon break.

So when the cell phone chirped that the customer was not in calling range, tears burst forth, and she pitched the cell against the wall without thought to damaging it.

Trying to relax herself, Sara willed her pulse to slow by closing her eyes and concentrating on deep breathing.

The sound of the house phone startled her, and immediately she raced to pick up the receiver.

"Gil?"

"Uh, no…it's Philip…is everything alright, Sarabelle?"

With that, Sara collapsed against the wall and tried to shake the tears from her voice.

But Philip was not fooled by her response.

"Sara…listen…you're not alright, are you? Meet me…or…or let me come to you…"

"I have work –" she began, but Philip was having none of it.

"Take some time off…meet me for a drink before the next lecture…I have about 2 hours…"

Philip preyed on her hesitation.

"Listen…take tonight off and then we'll have dinner…and talk…like old times…"

A calm was settling on Sara's face at the reassuring tones of her old friend, but before she could speak Philip added in a singsong voice, "If you're _really_ good, I'll let you take me to the airrr-pooort…"

Shaking her head as a giggle escaped, Sara agreed and upon deciding on a meeting place _after_ the lecture she hung up the phone and looked at her hand on the receiver before moving it to hug herself tightly as she stood against the wall.

_Ring…please, Gil…_

She would never be sure how long she stood there before finally sinking to the floor and pulling herself over to where her cell phone lay against the wall.

Catherine's voice picked up on the first ring, "Hey, Sara! I was just thinking about you!"

Sara's mind was unfocused and didn't think to ask what those thoughts were about.

Instead, she simply said, "Hi, uh, okay…listen, Cath…I'm…not going to come in tonight."

A slight pause before Catherine asked in a concerned tone, "You ok?"

_Am I okay? No, I'm not okay. I have weird dreams that I can't shake, my husband is out of sight and out of range of his cell phone, I think I'm losing my mind, I am feeling overwhelmed just like after-_

"Sara?"

Catherine's increased worry cut through Sara's mental ramblings.

"Listen, Cath…I'm not going to come in tonight."

A short pause. "Sar-, is everything alright?"

Breathing deeply as she cursed the thoughts that wouldn't leave her alone, Sara straightened a bit and replied, "I'm fine."

Before Catherine could acknowledge all the warning bells that were going off in her head at the phrase she had grown accustomed to _not_ hearing, Sara continued.

"I just have something to do tonight…will this leave you short?" she asked, already feeling guilty about her request.

"No, Sara…we're okay…listen, Brass is here, can you hold on a minute?"

Sara could hear some murmurs and when Catherine returned it was hard not to hear the undertones of something in her voice.

"Listen, Sara…how about a compromise? Can I loan you to swing just for tomorrow's shift? Brass just-" Sara could hear the other end muffled as if a hand suddenly were over the receiver.

"Listen, Sara…can you get here at 5 tomorrow afternoon? I won't need you here early, _don't_ come early…just, uh, come in at 5 and report straight to my office."

"You'll still be there?" Sara asked, confused as that was usually hours before Catherine was due to report for the graveyard shift.

"I will," Catherine said almost distractedly, and for the first time Sara wondered if she had caught her supervisor at a bad time.

"Listen, I gotta go. So, just remember, take tonight off and be in my office at 5pm _sharp_ tomorrow."

"Okay, then. Thanks, Cath," Sara spoke only to find herself speaking to dead air.

Now that she had the night free, she walked back into the bedroom to prepare for a shower when her eyes fell on the tangled bedsheets before her.

Images from her nightmare flew before her eyes, and Sara moved like a madwoman to strip the bed and comforter only to throw them into the laundry room, shutting the door soundly.

It took a while to place new bedding and a new comforter and shams on the bed, but when she was finished Sara felt like the activity had given her some distance from the troubling thoughts that the dream had given her.

Showered quickly, Sara spent a little more time on her makeup and outfit.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she suddenly felt much better about herself and was surprised to see a soft smile reflected back at her.

Picking up the cell, she tried again but failed to get past the "out of service area' message. A quick check online also declared that avenue of communication a dead end.

Sighing, she grabbed her purse before glancing at the time.

If she was going to make that lecture, she better hurry.

Although crowded, Sara found a side-aisle seat near the front of the hall.

Just as she was settling in, a bouncy thud next to her caused her to turn and let out a small gasp of surprise.

"What are you doing here? Aren't you on tonight?" Sara asked with a chuckle as Tessa settled in next to her.

"I saw you come in. I didn't know you were coming tonight!" the lab tech smiled excitedly.

"Well, I'm going to be assigned to swing tomorrow, so I have tonight off," Sara spoke the incomplete truth with a smile.

"Oh, well I have to go-, you see my sister has two rugrats and I have to watch them tonight, so I took a vacation day," Tessa added as she looked directly into Sara's eyes.

"What are you doing after the lecture?" the blonde asked as she pulled out her copy of Philip's first novel.

Sara had to chuckle at the action, and Tessa had the grace to blush slightly.

"Thought he just _might_ sign this one for me, too," she offered, and Sara couldn't help but laugh at her.

Sitting with Tessa was really making Sara smile; this girl could certainly give Greg a run for his money in _that_ department.

"So? After the lecture?" Tessa added, and Sara wondered if her friend was itching for another up-close-and-personal audience.

"We're just going to dinner. I'm going to take him to the airport tomorrow," Sara answered and she could see the wheels turning in Tessa's head.

"Then…off to _work_ for me?" she added with emphasis, as if to cut off any suggestion of a tagalong to the airport.

Tessa sighed as she got the message, and with a shrug both women smiled as they turned for the start of the lecture.

Later that night, Philip and Sara found themselves once again before the elevator call buttons.

"Come up with me…we can sleep tomorrow after I leave…let's…let's just pull an allnighter and solve the world's problems until the sun comes up."

Shaking her head with a laugh, Sara paused with her hand flat on Philip's chest.

"You've been a godsend to me, Philip. I'll miss you when you go back tomorrow," Sara said honestly.

Philip tugged on her arms, refusing to release her as the elevator doors opened.

"_Philip_," Sara laughed, but went willingly.

He was the perfect gentleman on the ride up, but when the doors opened Philip threatened to throw her over his shoulder if she didn't come in for at least one drink.

They were laughing all the way to his door, which he unlocked with great ceremony causing Sara to giggle and smile as she brushed past him into his hotel suite.

That night they talked of many things, including the college's homecoming set for two weeks away.

"How come you've never gone back?" Philip asked from his position splayed out across the comfortable couch.

Shrugging, Sara pulled up her stocking-clad feet under her as she sat across from him in the chair near the open window.

Gazing out over the panoramic view of the city, she turned suddenly with an impish grin.

"And how do _you_ know I haven't gone back?" she added with a glare.

"Easy…I've gone back every year looking for you," Philip responded with an easy air.

"_Every_ year."

Only a nod of his head in response.

"Just to look for _me_."

Another nod, as if to say it was no big deal.

Turning away before her head snapped back, Sara spoke quietly, "That's probably one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me."

Philip's smile was bright, but his eyes were heavy.

Stifling a yawn, he implored, "Please…come this year. Bring Gil, if he's home. Or come alone. Just…come."

Sara sat silently with a myriad of thoughts beginning a parade that soon was confusing her tired brain.

"I haven't seen him there in years, Sara…he hardly ever comes anymore, " Philip said softly, as if her thoughts were transparent.

Her eyes closed at the slight shudder that enveloped her system at the mere thought of coming face to face with Ken Fuller after all these years.

"Even if he's there, Sara…I'll be sure to keep him away…I'll protect you, Sarabelle."

She opened her lids to find security in Philip's gaze.

"Just…think about it. Promise?"

At this point of hours until this old friend departed, she was finding it hard not to promise him the world.

"Promise," she said softly, pulling herself to her feet.

"Nooo…please stay," Philip said with eyes closed shut as a yawn graced his tired face.

"Going home, buddy…call me when you check out, we'll have lunch and head over to the airport," Sara said quietly as she could see sleep yanking him under its spell.

A soft kiss to his forehead after covering him with a blanket from the back of the couch.

"Sleep well, Philip."

No response was heard as she let herself out.

Sara wrestled with her shoes outside Philip's door for a minute, cursing herself for not pulling them on when she was seated.

A glimpse in the polished surface of the elevator doors reflected that she was a bit disheveled from having made herself comfortable on the suite's overstuffed fabric chair.

The empty hallway bore witness to the noise of the elevator doors clicking closed… as a matching sound then echoed from the door to the stairwell at the end of the corridor.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N The action is heating up...this chapter was so long I had to divide it...so the "relief" some of you are waiting for is delayed a bit...thanks for the amazing reviews and comments...hope you will enjoy this chapter...more in two days...Kathy

The elevator stopped at the third level underground the Bellagio, and as Sara moved through the open doors she could hear the sounds of visitors and valets echo from around the bend.

Reflexively, her breath hitched as her eyes darted around the well-lit facility.

When she had parked here with Philip a few hours ago, they were immersed in conversation.

She had hardly thought about the ramifications of parking in the garage, as usually Gil was with her when they needed to use any sheltered lot.

Her husband knew, and well understood why, she preferred street-lot parking whenever possible.

Eyes darting for safety, she turned to be sure the security camera was blinking and facing in her direction.

Inhaling deeply, Sara set out towards her car which she had left in the space in front of the first column near the elevator.

Moving towards that area six feet in front of her, Sara's feet abruptly stopped their forward motion as her eyes widened in shock.

_Empty. _

Calming her nerves somewhat upon seeing a man and woman with eyes only for each other moving towards her from around the bend, Sara still couldn't make her feet move.

She observed the smiling woman closely, and found her chest tightening as the man leaned over to kiss her softly without ever losing the rhythm of their stride.

Oh, how she wished Gil was here to hold onto her at this moment.

The couple passed her, oblivious to her situation, and it wasn't until Sara heard the elevator doors close behind her that she returned to her present problem.

Holding the fob overhead with a slight tremble, Sara clicked the LOCK button twice and heard a familiar car horn.

From around the bend.

Acting on impulse alone, ignoring her clammering heart, the sound of Sara's hesitant steps sounded loud in her ears.

Her head continued to move from side to side, almost expecting to hear someone behind her.

She was not disappointed.

"Ma'am?"

Sara led out an ear-shattering scream as she twisted so wildly her heels caught and almost forced her to her knees.

"Hey, take it easy, ma'am. You okay?" asked the security guard as he grabbed her arms to keep her from falling, the sight of his uniform bringing welcomed relief to Sara's terrified state.

When she didn't speak at first, the gentleman in his 60's offered a kind smile.

Pointing to the overhead camera, he said, "I've been watching you. I wondered if you needed help with your car or something."

Seeing as she was relaxing a bit more, he added, "Best for a lady not to be out alone this time of the morning."

Shaking her head slightly to clear the memories that were assaulting her, Sara thanked him with a thin voice and was grateful when he took her elbow and started towards the direction she was heading.

"Can't remember where you parked?" the guard kept an even tone as he tried for conversation.

Sara began to turn to relate her puzzlement, but thought better of it as her car suddenly appeared in view near the post just around the corner.

She thanked the man for his kindness and was glad he stayed with her as she walked around the car to fully check the backseat before moving to unlock the driver's door.

The guard moved closer to the driver's side door, gripping his fingers on the handle as he prepared to open it as she moved back into full view.

But before she could even raise the fob, both reacted with differing levels of surprise when it yielded under his touch.

"But I-" Sara began, yet her soft voice was not heard over the well-meant scolding, "Oh, ma'am…next time be sure these doors are locked…the hotel isn't responsible if something is stolen from unlocked vehicles."

She nodded slightly, overcome by the fear that was wrapping itself around her.

"_Sara?"_

_Even now, she could see Natalie's face, feel the sting of the taser barbs as they sent shocks through her…_

"Sara?"

She pulled back in fright as the security guard moved his hand to his pistol.

"What's happening here?" Philip's voice demanded of the guard as he moved to grab a shaking Sara into his arms.

"You know this man?" the guard himself demanded, ready to call for back up.

"Yes…I'm…yes…" was all Sara could say as her head struggled between this reality and the memory.

"C'mon…you're not going anywhere with that flat tire, " Philip said decidedly and led Sara with his arm around her as the trio moved back towards the elevators.

The security guard whipped his head around as his view confirmed that Sara's front tire lay low and deflated on the concrete floor.

"Wha- what are you doing here?" Sara asked Philip without fully acknowledging her tire trouble.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out her cell phone which she has used in some futile attempts to call her husband.

"I thought you might be needing this. I, uh, spied it on your chair as I was rolling over _so comfortably, I might add,"_ he explained, hoping the injecting of humor might calm his trembling friend.

"C'mon," Philip spoke softly as he continue to move them towards the elevators.

"I appreciate all you've done for her," Philip added as his head turned towards the smiling guard.

"Just doin' my job…take good care of the little lady…she, well, she seems to need a little TLC," the older man added with a wink as the elevator doors closed fully.

Once back in the room, Sara flopped down on her chair as Philip fixed them both a strong drink from the wet bar.

His concerned heightened when she downed the half-full tumbler of Scotch with two gulps and a wince, and then after a moment's pause raised it in silent request for a refill.

Once done, he did not entirely relinquish the glass before her eyes met his and with some authority he said, "_Sip_ this."

With a half-smile, Sara nodded a bit before attacking her drink in an attempt to rid herself of the cold that had clamped down around her heart.

Philip couldn't bring himself to refuse when she raised her empty glass again.

_Gil…I need you…I think I'm losing my mind..please…_ the thoughts ringing through her mind with each sip.

Philip looked on concerned, but said nothing as he felt Sara needed some time to process before she would explain what had given her such a fright.

The adrenaline surge was dissipating, the drink was warming her from within, and when Philip pulled on her wrist she moved willingly with him and stumbled a bit towards the couch.

Setting her near-empty drink on the side table, Philip pulled up her feet gently and carefully removed her shoes.

Yanking off the cover he'd hastily thrown across the armrest, Philip helped arrange her across the cushions before placing the coverlet over her and lifting her head which would now use his lap for a pillow.

He focused his care on speaking softly while running his fingers through her hair.

Once her breathing eventually evened out, Philip sat for a long time just staring at this beautiful face of his tortured friend, feeling every bit protective of her now as if the years had never lapsed between them.

The sound of Sara's soft inhales was the only noise in the suite as he continued to stroke her head softly, lost in a sea of thoughts.

The clock chime announced that a second hour had sped by, and its sound broke the silence in the room.

He would have been content to sit there all night just watching over her, if it was not for the sudden pounding on his door.

"LVPD…open up!"

Philip's eyes flew to Sara who was stirring, and he moved swiftly to limit the jostling movements as he all but raced to the door to prevent further noise from awakening her.

His hands flew to the dead bolt and security bar as he flung the door open and moved to step outside so as not to have Sara's sleep disturbed.

Only Jim Brass had no intentions of staying in the corridor.

"Where is she?" he barked as his muscled frame moved inside, and his eyes began their scan of the foyer.

"Who? Sara?" Philip questioned, unclear as to what the problem was.

Jim grabbed Philip's sweatshirt tightly in one hand and spoke in his deadly calm of a voice, "YES, _Sara_. You were the last person with her, now Where. Is. She.?"

From behind, a bewildered voice belied her sleepy state.

"Jim? What's going on?"

Relief swept through his body, yet when he turned and took in her disheveled state it was all he could do to not deck the man standing next to him.

"I should be asking _you_ that question," Brass spoke again with a deadly edge.

"My car-" Sara began, but the weight of the memories, coupled with those hastily consumed drinks, found her swaying ever so slightly.

Strong arms swiftly moved around her and settled her back down to the couch as Philip's angry glare confronted the bewildered detective.

Philip reached for Sara's drink, but Brass grabbed it from his hand as a familiar ache settled in his heart as though he could almost smell the cough drops of long ago.

Dueling glares could kill, but Sara was oblivious.

In a small voice, Sara continued, "Just…I overreacted…Philip came…and security-"

Not making much sense of her ramblings, Brass knelt down and started putting on Sara's shoes.

"C'mon, doll…time to go home."

With a glare to Philip, Jim finished sliding the shoes on and helped Sara from the couch.

As they reached the door, Philip called for Sara again and moved swiftly to block their exit.

"You forgot this…again," he spoke, the latter part for the policeman's benefit.

"It's turned off," Brass spoke accusingly towards the man as he slipped the phone into Sara's purse.

"I…yes…I didn't want her bothered as she slept," Philip responded, but Brass just glared and moved past them.

"Sara," Philip tried, and this time she stopped and turned towards her old friend.

"I'll call you…in the morning, Philip," and then she graced him with a small smile as she dealt with the fatigue of the shock and the effects of the alcohol.

The silence as they waited for the elevator was killing Brass.

His own adrenaline high was ebbing as his relief in finally knowing that Sara was safe claimed control.

"Someone was in my car," Sara spoke softly and turned her anxious eyes to Brass adding after a minute, "I freaked out."

Concern whipped the detective into work mode.

"Show me."

A quarter hour later and a trio stood again looking at the flat tire of Sara's parked car.

Kneeling down, a nerve ticked in Brass' face as he realized the tire was slashed.

"No one moves this car. And I want access to that security feed," barked Brass until he looked at Sara's crestfallen face.

"Okay, but I'm not sure if that will help you. Garage feed on those cameras is recycled and erases itself every two hours," spoke the nervous security guard.

"Jim," Sara's hand lay across his forearm, "this could be just a random. Leave it."

He was all set to argue when he felt the anxiety beginning to flow off Sara again.

Begrudgingly relenting that anyone savvy enough to plot this would have left little trace, Brass nodded tightly and sent a small smile to the guard.

"Ok, thanks, pal…can you get the auto club over here to fix this? We'll be back for it later."

With that, Jim led Sara towards the elevators and out onto the street where his car was parked with its flashers still spinning.

Once she was buckled in, Brass drove with authority out the hotel's driveway and turned left onto the main drag.

Glancing at her surroundings, Sara turned towards him with a puzzled expression.

Answering her unspoken questions, Brass sighed heavily and chanced a small smile towards her.

"You're coming home with me tonight, doll. We'll figure everything out in the morning," he responded even though the first streaks of daylight were already on the horizon.

She would never be able to fully express how glad she was not to be heading home alone, and once again her thoughts were full of the growing despair of her distance from her husband.

The desire for Gil's strong arms around her was her last conscious thought as her headed bobbed slightly against the side window to show she'd drifted off to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Again, many, many thanks for the great reviews for this story…I certainly enjoy your spirited comments about what is happening with Sara…of this update, I can only say "patience is a virtue"…hope you will enjoy and share your comments…more in two days…Kathy

The next day started slowly and soon became a flurry of activity, and Sara was glad for the distraction.

She was awakened by the indiscriminate sounds of Brass on his phone in his den, the guest bedroom's door cracked open slightly.

Scrubbing her face to chase off the sandman, the stale aftertaste of Scotch made Sara wonder what was going through her mind to drink that much again.

Pulling herself carefully from the comfy twin bed, Sara availed herself of the empty bathroom down the hallway before moving forward to face the disappointing look she was sure to find on her old friend's face.

Instead, his eyes lighted with a fatherly smile as she approached the room, and Brass stepped out of his den and led the way to his kitchen to pour her a cup of coffee in the mug he had already set out for her on his counter.

"Okay…yeah…listen, I'll catch up with you later for the rest, okay?...thanks," and with that Brass closed his phone and brusquely closed the notepad he held before setting it down and placing his reading glasses atop it.

"Jim," Sara started with downturned eyes, and her body flinched slightly when she found herself engulfed in a bear hug.

"Humor me, Sara," he began softly before pulling away slightly to look in her eyes.

"I'm sorry for the bad-cop-routine, but your phone went to voicemail, and I couldn't find anyone who'd seen you, and I promised-" he cut off his almost-frantic rambling abruptly.

If Sara noticed he never finished the phrase, she left no clue as Brass pulled away only to tighten one arm around her shoulders as he moved her to the barstool at the counter.

Taking a breath, he continued in a calmer tone, "You never have your phone off, and after a few hours I let my worry escalate…_a bit_…" he finished with and emphasis, and Sara's soft chuckle let him know she was not upset.

"Ya think?" she added, but then her face grew serious.

"My car-" she began.

"Let's me know I was right to worry," Jim finished with authority.

Sara tried to ease his mind, and convince herself as well.

"Probably just some vandals…it wouldn't be the first time tires were slashed in a garage," she tried to reassure him, finding herself unable to disclose the fact that she was certain her car had been moved and then tampered with.

"Just…I just need you to keep your wits about you – and be – uh, just make… _good choices_, ok?" Jim answered, with clear undertones in his hidden challenge concerning her drinking and Philip.

Sara felt an embarrassed flush spread from her neck to her cheeks as she nodded before changing the subject.

"Give me a lift home to change?" she asked with a smile.

The ringing of his cell phone answered for him as Jim grabbed his keys and headed towards the door.

He motioned for her to follow as he stepped outside to answer his cell.

Sara grabbed her folded clothes and held them close to her body which was still draped with the borrowed T-shirt and sweat pants as her eyes searched the room for her purse and shoes.

Spying them near the stool she had just vacated, Sara placed all the clothing in the bag Jim had already placed on the counter for her.

Her smile softened as she saw his reading glasses on the legal pad, and her hand reached out to grab them, sliding them into her purse for safekeeping as she pulled the door closed behind her.

Knowing the auto club had fixed her flat tire before she even returned to Philip's room, Sara now felt stronger as they approached her car with Philip's carryon luggage.

Once inside her car, the investigator in her emerged to observe the inside for any telltale signs of break-in, but none were obvious.

Not wanting to burden her friend with any further drama, Sara dismissed the garage incident as she wheeled them towards the airport.

They decided on lunch at a restaurant a few exits before their destination.

This proximity to the airport would give them ample time for a leisurely lunch while still affording Philip a chance to check in early and avoid the crowds at security check-in.

The two friends talked about everything and nothing with Philip again making an impassioned plea for Sara to attend the reunion.

"It'll be fuu-uun," Philip singsonged in his delightful way, and his heart warmed at her surrending giggle.

"Fine…but I won't make firm plans until-" she halted briefly before Philip supplied, "…you talk it over with Gil."

An hour later, the two were standing in front of the security checkpoint for departing passengers.

Never one for long goodbyes, Sara smiled softly and accepted Philips lingering kiss on her cheek.

"So glad you're back in my life," he whispered with a brief strengthening of his embrace before pulling away.

"Me, too," Sara thought, but only gave him a soft wave as he disappeared into the queque of the security checkpoint without a backward glance.

Her mind drifted, as always, to Gil.

Truth be known, the airport had become her least favorite place in the world.

She now stood alone before the Departure gate, infused again with the fleeting thought that while everyone was going somewhere so seemed stuck here with her past.

Yet she would add that to the list of things she would never tell her husband as his excitement in this new assignment became her own for a while, and that thought now blanketed her with an indefinable sadness.

At one point in their relationship, she had thought there was nothing that she couldn't tell him, that he wouldn't understand.

Natalie changed all that.

Sara life was altered in many ways since that experience.

_The therapist she had sought out after her abrupt departure from the lab insisted that the PTSD she had suffered needed full and honest disclosures of her pain before she could start to heal._

_And while at first Sara had worked hard to overcome the pain, ultimately she had quietly surrendered to the horror and created more emotional doors,locking it away deep inside._

_After all, her refusal to deal with her anger and fear by shutting it down deep inside of her had helped her create a new life at Harvard after foster care ._

_She had done it before, she would do it again._

_Once again in her life, a counselor again credited herself with another successful outcome, and this time Sara had locked it away and boarded the Sea Shepherd._

_Standing on deck, she could almost feel the dew on her cheek as she bid the world as she'd known it goodbye – in more ways than one._

Moving towards the floor's exit path, Sara shook off her ramblings and forced her mind into a different direction.

She thought again of Philip and his plea for her to join him at their class reunion.

Her mind melded the thoughts of her husband and her alma mater.

As always they drifted to Gil, happiness settling deep inside over her imagining them walking hand-in-hand across the brightly lit bridges in Cambridge, romantically linked as they stopped for a kiss under the old streetlights…

Her face took on a dreamy glow, which morphed to annoyance at the teenagers who brushed past her to gain access to the elevator before her.

Descending on the moving stairs from the third level, still somewhat wrapped up in her musings, Sara's eyes lazily drifted towards the transparent walls of the second level.

There, visitors and loved ones were happily greeting or anxiously awaiting the first sight of passengers now just streaming through the Arrivals gate.

The activity reminded Sara of the bee colony Gil had pulled from its hive after smoking it for safe removal.

_That was the day he asked me to marry him._

Her eyes sparkled at the memory, but were quickly replaced with a longing as she wished it was she who was in that crowd waiting for Gil.

Waiting for him to finally come _home._

Sara's eyes misted over as she gulped twice to rid herself of the lump in her dry throat.

Looking to distract her thoughts, the slow-moving stairs continued to move her past the sight when Sara spotted _her_.

Eyes grew wide as she took in that regal stance, standing slightly apart from the crowd.

Suddenly, the woman's eyes brightened and she moved forward swiftly.

Sara could see Heather's arms slightly outstretched as if preparing to embrace-

At that moment the second level disappeared from Sara's view.

Her hatred of that woman was growing, and it took all in Sara's power to block out any further thoughts of Heather or her activities.

Instead she stepped from the escalator and made her way out the door, forcing herself to mental prepare for going to work.

3:30 p.m.

Once back in her car which she had parked in the open-air visitors lot, Sara glanced at the time.

Realizing she had an hour and a half until she needed to report to work, she reached for her hastily tossed purse intent on finding her sunglasses.

Flipping them on without thought, the world suddenly became horribly out-of-focus.

Alarmed, Sara seized them from their perch – and was soon laughing out loud.

_Brass._

Leaving his home as she did, Sara now realized she never returned his forgotten reading glasses to him.

Pulling out her cell phone, she warmed at the greeting before asking his current location.

Squinting slightly doing the mental calculation, Sara realized she had just enough time to reach Jim's scene in the neighboring suburb and return in time for shift.

Besides, it was a lovely day…the half-hour drive from town would give her time to ponder recent events – and perhaps formulate a plan for how to get in contact her husband.

5:00 p.m.

Sara walked down the corridor leading to the locker room to deposit her personal effects before meeting Catherine in her office.

That plan was swiftly waylaid by a buzzing on her pager directing her to that destination ASAP.

_Great…since it's SwingShift…this "urgent" page can only mean one thing: _Ecklie.

Deciding not to muddy the waters at work as she'd managed to do with her home life, Sara trudged heavy-hearted towards Catherine's office like a dead man walking.

The door was partially-opened, shades were drawn, lights were on full – so the quiet was unsettling.

Taking a deep breath, Sara plastered on a wide smile and raised her hand to knock twice.

The action caused the door to list sideways, fully opening to reveal an empty desk.

Moving into the room, the trained eyes began a full sweep of the space.

Halfway round, they settled on the couch that Catherine had retained but moved to the wall space under the shaded windows.

Her breath hitched as the occupant stood suddenly with an equally awestruck look.

Several deep inhales were needed before Sara shook off her disbelief and watched as the figure now moved slowly, his actions wary as if he worried she'd turn and run.

But movement was out of her control at the moment.

In fact, the only conscious action of which she now found herself capable was one softly whispered word.

"Grissom."


	10. Chapter 10

ANGST BREAK!

THIS CHAPTER IS RATED "M" JUST TO BE ON THE SAFE SIDE

IF YOU DO NOT LIKE READING "M"-RATED MATERIAL,

THE PLOT CONTINUES IN THE NEXT CHAPTER…

A/N: I don't know about you, but I felt the need for a break in the oppressive angst between these two…so while this really isn't a "steamy" chapter, I don't want to offend any readers by the suggestive content in this chapter…the storyline will pick up in the next chapter…my wonderful husband surprised me with a week's vacation leaving Sunday night! So while we will be travelling on Monday, I will not update until Tuesday (with a promise to also try to update on Wednesday and Thursday in fairness to the posting schedule I set up)… hope you enjoy the little sidetrip…remember, clues are always being hidden…ya gotta love GSR…all mistakes are mine…thanks loads for the great reviews…Kathy

From the hallways, Catherine's happy squeals of delight drew the attention of the couple as they stood in close proximity to each other, but each awkwardly afraid to bridge the gap.

Gil cringed inwardly at the blonde's impeccably bad timing.

"What are you doing here?" Sara finally spoke with her attention still riveted to him, her tone strengthening as she realized this was not a dream.

"Surprise!" Catherine called as she moved into the office, her face nearly splitting with a wide grin.

"And I have another surprise as well," she rambled, "I've given you tonight and tomorrow off as well."

Sara continued to stand silent but with mouth hanging open and forehead crunched by the effort to comprehend what was happening around her.

"Three nights off in a row, you deserve them, Sara," Catherine continued oblivious to the brunette's state of shock.

Proudly, she turned to Gil and beamed, "This wife of yours is just amazing, but then I don't have to tell _you_ that, do I?"

Focusing again on Sara still inches away from him, Gil moved his hand slowly to run his fingers up and down her arm in a soothing motion.

"No…no you don't," he responded softly, his need to grab hold of her increasing as his growing need to possess her clenched tightly in his lower body.

"Well then, off with you two," the blonde mothered as she circled the pair who had yet to fully embrace, "before Ecklie finds out you're in the building, Sara!"

At this, Gil's arm darted out around Sara's waist protectively.

"Why? What does he want with Sara?"

Catherine was getting flustered at her unsuccessful attempts to shoo them from her office.

Moving to the door as she craned her neck out to scan both directions, she puffed a lock of hair from her forehead as she turned towards the still immobile couple.

"He stayed around after shift inquiring when Sara was due in," she started before turning to Sara, "I didn't tell him you took last night off."

Gil looked at Sara, curious as to why she hadn't come into work.

Sara seemed oblivious to his questioning gaze, instead asked Catherine, "Did he say _why_ he was looking for _me_?"

The blonde just shrugged and mentioned something about a " visiting consultant, yadda yadda ", and then in her most exasperated voice she huskily whispered, "So will you just get the hell out of this building before Hodges follows the scent and discovers Gil is here?"

The smile on her face became infectious, and for the first time since her arrival Sara smiled and nodded as she moved towards the door with Gil in tow.

They moved quickly through the halls with Sara in the lead, and it wasn't until they cleared the exit to the back parking lot that Gil finally was able to grab onto his wife's hand.

He intended to pull her close for a welcoming kiss, but Sara had other ideas.

As the door behind him closed, Sara used the leverage from his strong grip to yank her hand downwards and flip him around so his back was pinned against the brick wall.

The next thing that Gil registered was that his hands were pinned to the rough surface and he was now wearing a certain brunette pressed actively against him.

Her worries and anxieties were temporarily dismissed as all Sara could think was that she couldn't get close enough to him.

She wanted him to absorb her, let her hide away inside him, never to be seen again.

Gil was dizzy with the delight of her tongue pleading for entrance, and with great force his hands broke free of her grip and were now pulling her tighter against him.

His hands cupped her hips and circled around to tightly grab onto her and pull her flush against his straining arousal.

They stood there for several minutes, forgetting the need to breathe before Sara started to feel a bit weak in the knees.

Gil released his strangling hold and supported her frame lovingly, pulling back from his kiss to allow her to sink into "her spot" cuddled under his chin.

He was home.

Neither would recall exactly how they got home or how they managed to get into the townhouse without mauling each other first.

Sara was never so grateful that Hank was still at the sitter's where she'd arranged for him to stay during this busy week of Philip's visit.

But Hank was not the focus of Sara's thoughts as she moved aside to watch Gil enter their home and immediately turn to lock the door.

Unlike his other homecomings were their marital reunion would often take place after a leisurely supper or lazy outing in the backyard, Gil's anxiety over the change in Sara's communications was fueling him to reconnect with his wife on the most primal level.

Having viewed those photos from the anonymous source, Gil had spent a hellish flight home.

The long air miles saw him drifting in and out of nightmares.

_The first was of dream-Sara having had too much to drink and doing an exotic dance ending with another man's hands fondling her intimately as he pulled her out of sight…_

_Another found him mute in pleading for her to stop as she rolled around in their bed with another man looming over her as she cried out in ecstasy…_

_The final, most hurtful one was concerning Sara packing her bag and leaving their home in the arms of another man… with a goodbye note penned and left for him to find…_

Yet now, he was here…home…with Sara suddenly swept up in his arms as he carried her to their bedroom, his pulse way past 90.

Dropping her a bit forcefully on their bed, Gil stood back to gaze upon this woman who was his heart.

She was his…and he was damned if things weren't going to stay that way.

Sara moved to sit up, only to find herself pushed back.

Questions in her gaze, she was suddenly a bit unsure of the look in her husband's eyes.

He would never hurt her, so fear was not in the mix of emotions swirling through her.

His next words caused any anxiety within her to vanish.

"I love you, Sara."

The bedroom remained silent as they two retained their positions for more than a heartbeat.

Finally, "Gil…I love you, too…so much."

His face closed off, a move Sara recognized as his attempt to garner his emotions so as not to fall apart in front of her.

Reaching her hand up invitingly, she spoke softly, "Gil…please…"

With that he moved with the speed of a much younger man, crawling over her as his lips attacked her with such frenzy that she thought he would push her over the edge on the strength of his lips alone.

But his lips had other ideas on areas to explore.

His attention to detail was one of the things Sara admired about him.

Especially in the bedroom.

Her eyes misted at the care he took in removing her street garb, only then to pull back and flick his gaze over her entire body with such tenderness that the air literally suffocated her with the love she felt pouring forth from him and enveloping her in its welcomed warmth.

"Sara," one word that drifted across the silence softly towards her heart –a plea, a command, a surrender.

His lips kissed their way along the long expanse of her legs, stopping every so often to raise himself up to ravage her mouth before returning to his journey northward.

Sara could plead, cajole, even try to physically move him completely over her.

He would always reply that he was "busy" right now, and he'd get back to her "in a bit".

Sara would laugh out loud as then he would give her a "love bite' in his current location.

He loved her laugh. He'd missed it.

He'd missed _her_.

And this was his chance to show her.

Although his mind was thoroughly engrossed in his ministrations, as he reached his current destination and heard Sara's whimpering in the delights he lavished upon her, Gil was suddenly bombarded by intermittent snapshots of a quite disturbing nature.

_Sara at an intimate table for two…with another man's hand fondling her._

_Sara brushing up against another man as he pressed against her with a hotel room door closing behind them._

Each vision was milliseconds, but stopped his heart each time they occurred.

A sudden fury swept through him, causing Gil to pull away from her sweet scent and with a growl move over her while pushing his hands beneath her in one swoop.

Before another breath could be exhaled, he had entered her.

Each stroke became stronger, and his lips crushed hers before moving to nip and kiss her neck only to repeat the movements as they both gasped at joy of their joined homecoming.

Unlike previous jaunts, Gil felt no relief in sight as he continued to pound into her while now whispering forcefully into her ear.

"I _love_ you."

"You're _mine_, Sara."

"_Only _ mine."

"You'll _never_ leave me."

"Love _me_, Sara…love _me_."

His words were more of a plea than a declaration.

Sara's bliss was too overwhelming, making it impossible to respond with anything other than a whispered, "_Yours…always yours…"_

Her responses made him feel every bit the alpha male, and his performance was exhibiting the truth of that distinction.

"I _love_ you, Sara…_say it…say it, _Sara," his voice commanded, although his powerful actions remained loving and in no way punishing.

"_I love you…oh, Gil…"_

He pushed her over the edge, and looking down upon this woman who now writhed in the throes of passion caused by her love for him brought him crashing down from a height seldom reached in their marriage.

Limply, he lay atop her knowing he was crushing her a bit yet not wanting to be separated from her just yet.

Sara seemed to reflect his thoughts as she raised her arms with great effort and held him tightly to herself.

A long while passed before either could move, and reluctantly Gil pulled himself from her only to pull her tightly to rest against him.

He reached over the side of the bed to pull the coverlet over them, somewhere in his mind realizing it was not their regular bedspread.

Holding her close, he whispered lover's words into her ear as he stroked her hair comfortingly.

Gil smiled as he noted she was already asleep, his brow furrowing as he noticed the darkened areas before those gorgeous lashes.

_She's not been sleeping again._

He refused to dwell on the changes he was noticing…there'd be time enough for them to talk tomorrow.

Right now, Gil felt a satisfied contentment seeping into every pore.

He felt like king of the universe right now, his heart's desire wrapped safely in his arms.

Gripping her closer, he knew she would always be the queen of his world.

Gazing down at her contented face, a small smile tugging at her beautiful mouth, Gil felt as if he could finally breathe deeply again.

He didn't have all the answers to the questions that still troubled him.

But Gil Grissom knew one thing for certain.

He would battle _anyone_ to the death who tried to take his Sara away from him.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Ah, but you know their dance, don't you?..."one step forward, two steps back…"…only this time other people seem to want to cut in on our favorite couple…don't worry, though…there is a lot more music to come before this dance is finally over…vacation is amazing fun, and the extra pool time cut into my writing and posting, but I'm hopeful to post three in a row unless this wonderful guy I married has more tricks up his sleeve…your reviews are welcomed and your opinions are important though I can't get to respond to them all right now…the plan is more tomorrow…take care…Kathy

Travel and the night's activities had done him in.

So he was more than surprised when, well past the time the dawn had spread its early light, he found his arms empty and his bedsheets beside him cold.

A smile still lingered on his lips as he recalled his insanely passionate homecoming.

Hardening slightly at the memory alone, Gil's body groaned as he pulled himself from bed massaging his tight lower back muscles.

His smile deepened as his mouth released a slight guffaw as he could almost hear Sara's cheeky response of ,"That's not all that's stiff!"

Taking care of morning necessities, Gil's smile remained as he moved down the hall in search of his missing bride.

Clearing the short corridor, his investigator's gaze scanned the open-air living room/dining room space.

His smile fell as he took in the scene before him.

Sara was sprawled across their couch, uncomfortably tangled in the cotton throw she loved to spread across it.

A large bowled, empty wine glass set nearby, half of its base suspended in midair as if hastily tossed onto the wooden surface.

Gil's eyes immediately flipped towards the kitchen area and found what his heart hoped it would not find.

The counter betrayed Sara's confidence as the liter bottle of Merlot taunted him to draw his own conclusions.

_She's drinking to sleep…that's her tell…she's having nightmares…she's withdrawing, doesn't want to talk about what's bothering her…just like after –_

Gil moved towards his wife, troubled beyond measure as his thoughts replayed the months after that hell in the desert.

_I wasn't there for her then…not like I should have been…I wanted things to be as they were…but the pain was too unbearable…she couldn't handle it…she left to save herself…it almost killed me when I lost her…_

Seating himself across from her, Gil tried to calm himself.

If memory served him correctly, it would do neither of them any good if he went charging in trying to rescue this damsel from her distress.

"_Hey, Sara?...you, okay?" " I don't know….this…it's just wrong…"_

"_What are you doing here?" "I could ask you the same thing." "THIS…isn't helping…"_

"_Hey…" "Okay…what's up?..." "I'm sorry…lately, I've…" "This is Sara..I'll be right there…"_

His lungs fought to bring air to ease the constriction in his chest as he replayed that last memory, realizing again that was the last time he spoke to her for that long fortnight before she finally contacted him.

He had analyzed their conversations during that last month before her sudden departure, and he had realized they revealed how the two of them had become this stilted version of their former selves who could communicate with a single word or gesture.

Gil now realized that Sara needed more than that which is why their nightly SKYPE sessions had become a cornerstone of their relationship in their time living apart.

His eyes flicked down at her mumblings, and a reassuring hand moved forward intent on softly stroking her hair to ease her from the tension of her dream.

Instead, upon contact, Sara's eyes flew open as she pushed the offending hand away and screamed, "Philip!"

Gil moved back instinctively to give her space; it had been a long while since she'd had a nightmare so intense.

Hadn't it?

In the seconds until recognition bloomed in her terrified eyes, Gil realized he couldn't know that from his sequestered home-away-from-home, miles away in Peru.

He wanted to comfort her.

He needed reassurance that she wasn't sliding back into a remission of the PTSD that plagued her after –

He found himself still traumatized from that nightmare they'd somehow lived through…and if _he _couldn't even say the woman's name to _himself_…how could he expect Sara to admit it to him?

Gil looked closely at Sara who had brought her breathing under control and had pulled her legs up in her typically defensive stance.

Her gaze shied away from his questioning glare as her heart continued to pound in her chest at the still vivid dregs of terror from those unknown hands jumping out from behind her as she moved through the darkened Bellagio parking garage.

"Sara?" Gil spoke softly now, needing the comfort of holding her as much as he knew she needed the same reassurance.

Tears threatened to spill, but he could see her making a valiant attempt to hold them back.

_Just like before…when I'd come home from my shift to find her sitting just like –_

The parallels caused his heart to ache.

Had she really been hiding from him again?

Moving without thinking it to death, Gil slid next to her and without waiting pulled her hands from their death grip around her knees and almost yanked her onto his lap.

He had spent many lonely months reviewing again and again what he should have done when she had all but shut down on him.

Gil promised himself that if he had the chance he would do many things differently.

Now was his chance to do just that.

He didn't push her to talk, but that didn't mean he would revert to his usual silent mode either.

He had spent many months talking to her pillow in her absence, crying often and wishing he had just shared his heart with her while looking into her eyes when her head had occupied that space.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

His words flowed from the heart, and even he wondered if was really just talking about last night.

Sara shook her head slightly from its place in "her spot", but was not forthcoming with any other reaction.

Gil held her for a while, his mind racing at the evidence before him.

Following her DUI, Sara hadn't started drinking heavily until the month before her sudden departure that dark night.

He hadn't noticed…no, he had refused to accept what the evidence was telling him.

Wine glasses had been stacked haphazardly in their dishwasher, empty wine bottles had been clinking as he took out the recycling…had she been waiting for him to notice?

Gil pulled her closer now, his worry independently chose his course of action.

"How long has this been going on?"

Sara remained silent, but he could feel her body tense.

"Hey, sweetheart, I'm here…right here…talk to me…"

The silence in the room was deafening as after a moment he added, "Please, Sara."

She loved him so and was loathed to deny him anything.

Actually opening her mouth to speak, the familiar tones of his cell phone indicated an incoming call.

_Moment broken._

Sara moved to leave her position but was surprised when his arms tightened around her.

As if the fates mocked him, his phone stopped only for hers to start invading their privacy.

Instinct had them both on the move, as they knew what the job entailed long before Sara had returned to work.

Glancing down with a frown, Gil noticed Sara's shoulders droop before her voice released clear tones, "This is Sara."

After a moment, Gil's cell interrupted the silence, and without a glance at the called ID he moved quickly towards the den while responding automatically, "Grissom."

The silence in their home continued after Sara appeased Ecklie with a promise to be there within the hour, considering he deemed it "important" that she show her face ASAP .

Sitting on the couch running her fingers through her hair, she wondered how Gil would react to her summons to some new assignment to meet with some representative from some agency.

From what she could gather, she was handpicked by the Sheriff to deal with this person.

And this person apparently had waited for hours yesterday to begin their work together – despite the fact that Catherine had told Ecklie repeatedly that Sara was not scheduled to work.

She smirked at that, her eyes rolling in the ridiculous nature of the entire affair.

_What difference does it make?_

A sob almost escaped as those words catapulted Sara back to the night Gil had come to her apartment seeking answers, and found himself blindsided by the graphic revelations of her childhood trauma.

_It makes a difference to me._

Sara knew her nightmares bothered him; hell, their frequency over the last few weeks had alarmed her as well.

She thought she had locked up her horrors and thrown away the key.

Only it now seemed that they somehow were managing to escape.

Shaking her head in absolute refusal to let the graphic images control her life again, Sara moved towards the den fully intending to tell him about her reunion with Philip and all the worrisome events that happened while he was away.

She would share it all, and he would make it better.

Her forward movements halted abruptly just inches before the door as she spied her husband through the crack in the open door.

His back was to her yet his voice was soft and, though she had to strain for his words to be heard, for Sara the message was undeniable and crystal clear.

"No, Heather…listen…Heather…I _can't _right now…Sara's still home…"

Blinding pain shot through her, and Sara felt the suspicions she had carried these last few days finally had been verified.

As with all the other pain that had been inflicted upon her in her lifetime, Sara bottled up this latest crushing blow and stowed it away until she was strong enough to deal with it.

And if that time never came, then so be it.

Sara moved towards their shared bathroom and took the world's shortest shower, letting the one recalcitrant sob escape under the pounding spray.

She was almost fully dressed when her husband returned to their bedroom, surprise written on his face as he realized she was leaving.

"Sorry about that, Sara…a business call about some consulting…"

Her back was turned to him, or he would have seen the crestfallen look in reaction to his statement.

_He's lying. He just lied to me._

Suddenly, the room felt stifling as she raced towards the door.

"I, uh, I gotta run…Ecklie's waiting…"

Gil fumed and stepped towards her, "Didn't you tell him it was your night off?"

When his hand touched her forearm, his prints felt as if they were searing her skin.

She needed to put some distance between them without betraying the fact that she had caught him in a barefaced lie.

Breathing deeply, she moved through the doorway to stop only long enough to gather up her keys.

"Don't know how long I'll be, so-"

She had almost made good her escape before she found herself tugged around and pressed firmly against her perplexed husband.

"Sara."

Confused as to her sudden aloofness, he sought to reassure her, to bring some comfort to her.

She closed her eyes and forced herself to relax because she knew him well enough that he wouldn't allow her to leave if she showed any sign of upset.

_We're right back to where we started…_

Putting on a straight face, Sara forced some semblance of normal onto her features while greedily taking in some of the comfort he was providing.

_My one and only…_

Yet now, she felt sure that thought was hers and hers alone.

Gil pulled her back enough to kiss her soundly, trying to send all his love and support through the firm press of his lips to hers.

He could feel her soft tremble as he pulled back and looked into her eyes.

"Wait five minutes…I could drive you."

Fearing the onslaught of tears if she didn't regain some physical space between them, Sara's response was almost too adamant.

"No! No, you stay here…do what you have to do…I'll call you when I'm done."

Gil knew better than to press her.

Besides, he could make good use of their time apart.

"Okay, then."

She managed a near-genuine smile before turning to open the door.

The image of watching her leave brought an almost incapacitating pain to his stomach.

"Sara!" he almost yelled.

She paused and turned before responding in a tone full of resignation.

"Yeah?"

"Just…take care of yourself, okay?"

"I'm fine," she answered before stalking down the driveway to her car with those historic words revealing her true state of mind.

Gil remained in the opened doorway long after she had driven the car out of sight.

His analytical mind on overdrive trying to comprehend all the details of their bizarre morning, he moved back towards the couch.

Sitting down heavily, he leaned forward and picked up the empty wine glass.

Twirling it softly between his fingers, Gil sat back slowly as he continued to regard the item as if it held some answers to his worries.

The movement halted suddenly as his gaze flitted over the rim of the glass to focus at the empty air above it.

_Who is Philip?_


	12. Chapter 12

A/N The plot moves forward, more clues are here, and these two continue the dance…your reviews are inspiring, and this story gets more fun to write because of them…hope you will continue to share your thoughts or just continue your reader support…the plan is for more tomorrow …twists and turns ahead…take care…Kathy

p.s. this site does not want to print the separator bars between places of action...I have made the first line bold when the scene changes...sorry for the inconvenience...

Their home printer finished just as he heard the click of his cell indicating the outgoing call being answered.

"I thought you would be…shall we say…"tied up" until later," chuckled a familiar voice.

The levity was lost on him as Gil stared at the concrete images he now held in his hands.

"Have time for a meeting in your office?" he pushed forward in his chair as he flipped the photos over to maintain his focus on the call.

"Tea for two?" Gil heard his friend ask, but he found the levity grating as he fought to maintain his cool.

"I'll be there in a half hour," he answered brusquely, then took a deep breath before adding more evenly, "see you then."

**His secretary buzzed in that Sara had arrived,** and soon she found herself warmly greeted and seated before the looming mahogany desk of the Sheriff.

With the perfunctory questions out of the way, he got right to the point.

"As you know, our lab is #2 in the country, next to the FBI's," the Sheriff began.

"We have been making concerted efforts to maintain, or even increase, our standings, as you well know," he spoke pointedly.

Sara grimaced inwardly.

When first she, then Gil, left the lab within months of each other just over two years ago, the Sheriff had made his concerns very clear to Grissom concerning the loss of grant monies associated with his status.

One concession to his approved retirement was that Gil would continue to apply for technology upgrades while listing himself as a "consultant" for the LVPD lab.

"Therefore," the Sheriff continued breaking into Sara's thoughts, "I was very pleased when I was contacted by this private agency that has a great reputation for, shall we say, helping companies get a foot up on their competition."

Sara's brow quirked slightly, but her eyes remained impassive to the questions that were racing through her mind as to where this could possibly be heading and how this would involve her.

Picking up a folder and sliding out a paper with a distinctive letterhead, the Sheriff spoke will perusing the document.

"This JKF & Associates has been authorized by the Mayor to work closely with our people in a total evaluation of our practices."

Sara inwardly bristled at the idea of a "time management expert" being allowed carte blanche to follow her around micromanaging her work ethic.

Oblivious to her dissatisfaction with the idea, the Sheriff was cut off from his next utterance by the chiming of his intercom.

"Sir, is here."

Smiling, the Sheriff bid him to enter, and before Sara could blink the door behind her flew open and a smiling Ecklie moved quickly to stand in front of the desk beside her chair.

"Sidle," Conrad greeted dispassionately, but was interrupted by the Sheriff's booming voice.

"Jason! Come in, come in! I'd like to introduce you to CSI Level 3 Sara Sidle."

Before Sara could turn to acknowledge that another person had entered the room, her heart slammed into her chest as the yet unseen visitor began to speak.

_Oh._

"Sara, this is Jason from JKF & Associates. He'll be personally interacting with you and sending his findings directly to the Mayor's office."

_My._

"Thank you, Sheriff, but please…my friends call me Ken."

_God._

"It's really nice to see you again, Sara."

**As Brass was on his way to the Lab to check on some leads**, Gil had agreed to simply meet him in Sara's office.

He secretly hoped to find her there after she was finished with Ecklie, as he was still a bit unsettled after her abrupt departure this morning.

Tapping the file folder absently against this open palm, Gil wandered past reception with a quick acknowledgement of Judy's welcoming smile and greetings as he headed down the familiar halls towards what was now Sara's home-away-from-home.

Moving silently through the threshold, Grissom smiled at the sight of a tired Greg Saunders furiously scribbling his name on a stack of uncompleted reports.

"Working a double and getting writer's cramp…behind on your paperwork?" he asked with a laugh as Greg's look of surprise morphed into delight at seeing his old mentor.

Throwing his pen down, Greg swiveled dramatically in his chair, "Nope…just finished! When did you get in? Is this why Sara's been AWOL for the last two nights?" he joked.

Gil smiled and offered, "My plane came in yesterday afternoon. Brass arranged for Catherine to meet me at the airport. I…I, uh,…"

Greg jumped to conclusions, as usual where Sara and Grissom were concerned.

"I know, I know…you just wanted to surprise Sara…bet she flipped out!"

Gil's face softened at the memory of their homecoming as he spoke, "She got called in for a meeting at noon with Ecklie…there was something I needed to do here, and then I was hoping to catch her before she headed out."

The two men exchanged a few barbs before Greg sat up and encouraged Gil to take up the empty seat at Sara's desk.

Grissom sat down as Greg wheeled his chair closer.

As Gil set the file he was carrying down on the desk, one of the photographs slid partially out from the folder.

Every the investigator, the younger CSI's gaze fell to the uncovered picture, and his face broke into a smile as he remembered Tessa taking that shot of Sara and Philip as the foursome enjoyed their dinner after the first lecture.

"Great shot, isn't it?" Greg spoke conversationally, moving back suddenly as Grissom jerked his body forward and grabbed the picture from the folder.

"What do you know about this, Greg?" barked Gil just as he felt another body enter the room.

"Hey, am I late for the party?"

Brass clapped Gil on the shoulder before greeting Greg, his eyes falling to the photo clenched in Gil's hand.

Grissom didn't fail to notice the slight narrowing of his old friend's eyes as they took in the photo before him.

But it was Greg's next statement that drew both men's attention.

"That was a good night for Sara. Yeah, after those cases we've been on lately, it was good to hear her laugh. She really seemed to relax and enjoy herself."

Something clicked inside of Gil, and he would be hard-pressed to identify the exact feeling.

On one hand, there was tremendous relief that Greg seemed to know who this "character" was.

On the other hand, his blood pressure was rising as his heart skipped a beat in finding out that other people were noticing the strain Sara obviously had been under lately but had failed to discuss with him in their SKYPE conversations.

_Is this why she ducked out on our conversations the last few days?_

Before Gil could finish that train of thought, Brass muttered something sarcastic about it being a "real good thing" that "this guy" was around.

Not one to let a comment go unchallenged, Grissom eyed his longtime friend suspiciously.

"What do _you_ know about this guy, Jim?"

Shaking his head, Brass' reply was decisive, "This is a conversation you should be having with your wife, pal."

Before Gil could respond, Greg joined into the conversation as he set back in his chair with a wave of his hand.

"No worries there, Grissom…Philip's a great guy."

Gil's eyes flew to the photograph.

"_This" is __**Philip**__?_

**Sara's head shook slightly** to clear her thoughts.

"J. K. F." she challenged, glaring into the smiling eyes of the person who had just turned her world upside down.

"Jason-" she began.

"Kenneth Fuller…and associates…you remember Bloomer and McCord," he finished, his smile turning a bit lecherous as his eyes raked over her.

The Sheriff, pleased to know that Sara had a "past" with this representative sent by the "higher ups", now sported a smile that indicated he wanted insider information on their relationship.

Turning towards the man behind the desk, Ken smiled broadly as his hand moved to rest upon Sara's shoulder, his fingers softly grazing her upper back.

"Sara and I go way back, to our days at Harvard."

The Sheriff continued to beam, but Conrad kept his attention on Sara's tense posture.

He then eyed this man who he considered an "interloper" whose main agenda was telling him all the things that were wrong about "his lab".

Ecklie's tone brought Sara's eyes to his as he hissed, "Sheriff, I'm sure you and "Ken" have plenty to discuss. I need to see Sidle in my office."

Turning fully to her, he tone brokered no argument. "_Now_!"

On one hand, Sara was eager to move to anywhere Ken Fuller was not.

On the other hand, she could imagine the grief she was going to get from Ecklie now that he knew she had a past with the Mayor's new fair-haired boy.

They walked in silence towards Ecklie's office, and Sara followed him in, turning to close the door as directed.

She was surprised when Conrad breathed deeply before _asking _her to "please take a seat".

Bewildered, Sara watched as this man, known for his off-the-cuff rhetoric, paused as if he were choosing his words carefully.

Tilting his head as if he had come to a decision about something, Ecklie placed his hands fully on his desk before leaning forward and meeting her eyes as he spoke.

"Sara…watch yourself with this Fuller guy."

Taken aback, she remained speechless which Conrad took as an indication to continue.

"There's something about this guy…and honestly…" he inhaled deeply, "I didn't like the way he was looking at you."

Had the situation been any more surreal, Sara would have thought she was speaking to the ghost of Grissom.

Instead, she settled back comfortably and simply responded, "Join the club."

Satisfied with her response, Conrad continued, "Just…listen, I know the Mayor and the Sheriff are blown away by this offer to come in here and review our performance –"

"Offer?" she asked, trying to come to terms with everything that was happening.

Nodding, he answered, "From what I understand, _they_ came to _us_ – well, to the Mayor – and that guy will agree to anything that makes him look good politically."

"Why our lab?" she asked, trying to put together pieces from disjointed facts.

Settling back in an aggravated motion, Conrad threw up his hands.

"I didn't have a clue…" he spoke while waving his finger at her, "until I saw the head of the company greet you with little surprise that you were seated in the Sheriff's office."

A gnawing uncertainty was growing deeper inside Sara.

Leaning forward in his chair forcefully, Conrad spoke with clarity.

"This guy _bothers _you, in _any_ way for _any_ reason, and I want you to report it to me immediately, Sara, do you understand?"

For a moment Sara was quiet, still considering all Conrad had said.

"Sara? I mean it. Watch your back with this guy."

She locked eyes with Ecklie and recognized that look.

He was deadly serious.

She nodded and then rose to leave.

"Thank you, Conrad," she said sincerely, and the use of his first name indicated for him that a deal was a deal.

With that, Sara opened the door and stepped into the corridor.

After the briefest hesitation, she moved towards her office where she hoped to have a few minutes of peace and quiet to digest all that had transpired in the last hour.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: This chapter is a bit longer, but necessary to set up the next stage of the action…this chapter contains clarifications for readers and more misunderstandings for our dear Sara…a few more clues revealed to watchful readers such as animon and Kay Isles…thanks again and again to all of you who take the time to write those great reviews…our hotel is experiencing intermittent Internet failures so I am posting without a reread, therefore all mistakes are mine…also, an apology for misnaming JKF's company several times in the last chapter, an error I will try to correct as service is restored – hope that didn't confuse anyone as the company's name is actually Ken's initials…loved the comments in the reviews, they certainly spur me to write faster…expecting one more update tomorrow with details on the next posting schedule as we make travel decisions…as I always say, gotta love GSR…looking forward to chapter's reviews…take care…Kathy

Chapter 13

Sara had turned the last corner near her office when her movements came to a sudden stop.

"Sara…I've been looking for you."

"Well trust me, _Ken_, you are the _last_ person _I_ was looking for," her voice rising in annoyance.

She moved to step around him, but found herself pulled closer as his hands snaked out to grab onto her upper arms almost painfully.

Ken spun her around and almost slammed her against the wall, seemingly uncaring that his actions could be noticed by lab personnel at any time.

"Now…is that any way to welcome an old friend?" he jeered suggestively, his eyes flipping down to take in her lanky frame.

Using her training to pull his hands from her, Sara defiantly glared at him as she moved herself a safe distance away from this creep as she began to move backwards towards the safety of her office still a few feet down the hall.

"YOU…are no FRIEND of mine," she spoke angrily through gritted teeth.

Ken laughed haughtily and sneered as he continued to mirror her movements down the deserted corridor, "Sara Sidle…still as feisty as I remember."

Moving with measured steps, her glare continued as she replied hotly as her voice carried, "The name is _Grissom_…_Sara Grissom_."

His eyebrows raised in a taunt, his tone was condescending.

"_Grissom_? Not "old man Grissom" !"

His words inflamed her anger but he continued, uncaring of her reaction.

Ken skirted around her to block her movement down the hallway.

"Seriously, Sara…the _bug guy_?...hell, I heard he's old enough to be your father!"

She let out a small cry when Ken's hands grabbed her again and, encasing her wrists and whipping them behind her back, pulled her struggling form tightly to him as he taunted suggestively in her ear, "Why don't you let a _real_ man remind you of how it can be?"

Any rebuttal to his comment was forgotten as Sara suddenly felt his tight grip loosen.

She saw Ken's eyes widen as he was unceremoniously spun around.

The corridor echoed first with the sound of fist connecting with a jaw and then with the sound of a scuffle as other voices tried to intervene in the melee.

"Get up, you bastard!" Grissom's voice spewing venom.

"Gil, calm down," Brass implored as his strong grip kept his friend from moving towards the man still splayed out on the floor.

"What the hell is happening here?" Ecklie's voice boomed as he raced down the hallway, having been alerted to Sara's possible problem by some alert lab techs.

Greg caught the look in Sara's eyes and moved forward to pull the still-stunned Ken off the floor.

Conrad's eyes scanned the silent group, and his gaze fell on Sara who responded to his unanswered question.

"I'm fine."

With that, Gil moved towards Ken but Ecklie preempted his next action.

"Let's take this into your office, Sara."

As the rest of the group turned, Gil moved to stand next to Sara and as his arm swung around her possessively he could feel her trembling which caused his embrace to tighten.

As he closed the door soundly, Ecklie swung his hands to his hips and glared at Ken.

"Now, what the hell was that all about?" he demanded, his eyes full of anger.

With practice calm, Fuller chuckle lightly as he rubbed his jaw while speaking, "Just a misunderstanding I'm sure, Conrad."

The lab director bristled as he turned to Sara, but he would be disappointed at her lack of response.

Instead, Ken moved in front of Gil and surprised the group with his gall as he stretched out his hand in smug invitation.

"Ken Fuller. And you are?"

His eyes blazing, Gil replied, "Gil Grissom…the _bug guy_."

Knowing that his comments had hit the mark, Ken unwisely continued his previous taunts.

"Ahh…the cradle –robber," he laughed, looking around as if to make his comments that much less innocuous, "so _you're_ the one who snatched up my Sara."

Before he could take another breath, that derisive smile faltered only briefly as he suddenly found himself inhaling the breath of an angry Grissom who had swiftly invaded Ken's personal space.

"She's_ my _wife."

Recovering quickly, Ken challenged Gil's indignant glare with one of his own as the two men squared off to continue their battle.

"Stop it!" Sara spoke with an edge to her voice.

Seeing the potential for this to escalate, Ecklie intervened.

"Fuller, my office…_now._"

When it became apparent these two were not backing down, Sara moved towards Gil – only to find herself pushed back as his arm rejected her attempts to pull him away.

"Fuller!" Conrad tried again, but this time Ken did turn his head in response.

"I'm not under your purview, _Conrad_!"

"Listen, you little-"

"O-_KAY_!" Brass entered the center of the angry group.

"How about let's everybody calm down for a moment," he spoke again in his usual affable manner, despite the irritation with this wiseguy for trying to intimidate Sara.

Stepping in front of Gil who at first resisted Jim's attempt to move him away, Brass now addressed the young, contemptuous ass in front of him.

"See this badge?" he asked in the friendliest of tones.

"This badge puts everybody here under "my" purview," Jim continued sweetly.

"So here's how it's going to go down. You are going to move along like a good citizen and head back to Ecklie's office where he's going to…explain, _to you_, …the proper etiquette for employee interactions in this workplace," he spoke with a deadly smile.

"Certainly, _officer_," Ken spoke condescendingly with the hint of amusement found in those with the money to get away with most things despicable.

As he stepped forward to follow a clearly angry Ecklie into the dispersing crowd that had hovered just outside the door, Ken paused in front of Sara and smirked cockily, "See you tomorrow night, doll."

Grissom lurched forward as Brass moved towards the door to prevent another unexpectedly angry display directed towards this wiseguy.

Yet both Jim and Greg were surprised to find Gil now directing his ire at Sara.

"And just what the hell was _that_ supposed to mean?"

Already off-kilter due to Ken's actions in the hall, her husband's anger left Sara mute in shock.

Her lack of response only seemed to fuel his anger as the image of that photo in the hotel room doorway flashed momentarily through his thoughts.

Clenching his jaw, Gil moved to grab the folder from Sara's desk before he turned towards Brass to stutter in frustration, "I-I'll…" before deciding that he just couldn't deal with this situation for another moment.

Glaring at his wife, Grissom stormed past Jim and charged from the room.

The lengthy silence was broken by Brass' cheerful, "Hmm! _That _went well, didn't you think?"

Greg couldn't take his eyes off Sara, moving to lead her to sit at her desk.

"He was so angry," Sara whispered, folding in on herself to hold her head in her hands.

"Hey, he's a guy…and some other guy was threatening his lady love…" Greg spoke calmly, grabbing hold of Sara's hands and ducking down to maintain eye contact.

"It's what guys do. Protect what's theirs."

"Why? Why was he even _here_?" Sara's head tilted as if trying to solve the riddle.

"I'm not sure, exactly," Greg began, "he came in, we were sitting and chatting talking about everything and nothing. Brass came in, we started talking about Philip-"

Sara almost jumped to her feet, her current position making her next words even more imposing.

"_YOU_? You told him about _Philip_?"

Greg looked confused.

"Well, yeah…we were all looking at the picture –"

Sara was ranting now.

"What _picture_, Greg? What _picture_?" she yelled, trying to wrap her head around these events.

"Sara, calm down. You know, the picture Tessa took of you and Philip at dinner that night. The one you sent him."

"Greg," Sara sat down heavily, trying to outrun the spots dancing before her eyes.

"Greg, I didn't send Gil any picture. I never got a picture. Only Tessa and Philip had pictures, remember they traded cell numbers?"

Greg looked even more puzzled.

"Can't be possible, Sara," he tried again, "Gil had some pictures in that folder he carried…you saw them," he turned to Brass for validation.

Jim was immediately on the alert.

"Sara, he's telling you the truth. But we only saw the one picture of you and Philip sitting at a table with what looked like dinner on the table."

She covered her eyes in despair.

_What was he thinking about when he looked at that picture? _

_Who could have sent that picture to him?_

_And what other pictures does he have?_

Sara moved swiftly to her feet, the action causing a wave of dizziness to pass over her.

"Hey, you're not going anywhere, doll," Jim spoke while helping her back into her chair.

"Take a few minutes, Sara," he said softly before turning his glare to Greg.

"Stay here with her, Greg, and drive her home when she's feeling a bit better."

"And where are you off to?" asked Greg as he moved to pour Sara a glass of water from the new bottle on his desk.

Jim's glare was the only answer needed.

Gsrgsrgsr

Gil was berating himself as he swerved between lanes in an effort to leave the Strip traffic behind him.

His tires squealed as he made an abrupt turn off the main drag onto a side street leading to the suburbs.

With his mind on overdrive, his deep breathing was causing his anger to ebb.

In its place, a sliver of shame was beginning to blend with the reality of what he had just experienced.

_How could I have treated Sara like that!_

His fists slammed the steering wheel as the image of Ken wrapping Sara in that vulgar stance threatened to destroy any thread of self-control to which Gil was clinging.

His heart was aching to hold her, maybe even grab her and run for their lives.

For their love.

He was ashamed of his jealous streak, and even more worried that she might not forgive him for his outburst.

On autopilot, Gil found himself pulling to the curb without really remembering driving here.

His hand turned the ignition key, his ears oblivious to the ping of the cooling engine.

The sound of his cell phone broke the uneasy calm, and Gil closed his eyes in relief as he read Jim's name on the caller ID.

"Jim."

"Where the hell are you?"

Looking around, Gil actually did a double-take when he realized where he was.

"Not sure," he lied, his eyes scanning the tall Victorian building across the street.

"Well, let me tell you that you are _lost_, brother, if you're not on your way home," chided Brass, who Gil suspected had guessed where he had driven.

"Yeah…Jim,…is Sara…" he couldn't finish because he wasn't sure what he really wanted to know.

_Is she angry, furious, crying…most importantly, is she okay?_

Jim filled in the blanks shaking his head as he pondered literally knocking some sense into this guy.

"She's okay, Gil…you gave her quite a fright the way you left here."

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, it isn't me who needs to hear it. Listen, she's really upset about something. You two need to sit down and talk…about a number of things," Brass insisted.

"Jim," Gil asked quietly, "before we heard Sara in the hallway, you were going to tell me what you know about this Philip guy."

Brass' patience had reached his limit with this situation.

He all but barked, "Listen, hotshot, just get your ass out of D Street and head home. You want answers? Talk. .Wife."

With that Brass first hung up the call, and then hung his head in exasperation with this situation.

Gil nodded in response as he threw down his cell phone and started the car.

He drove away, totally missing the movement at the window curtain across the street.

Meanwhile, Greg had brought Sara home where she promised to rest just so he would leave her alone with her thoughts.

Moving now to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, Sara unconsciously rubbed the ache in her upper arms without fully realizing that bruises were beginning to show both there and on her wrists.

As the water started to boil, she moved to grab a sweater as the cold seemed to seep into her bones.

She thought about what she would say to Gil when he came home.

_If…if he comes home…_

Her plan included a full disclosure of her reunion, of their dinner, and of their late night chats at the hotel.

Would she even tell him about her car?

Before she could decide, the front door to the townhouse flew open as if Gil expected to come crashing through at a running pace.

They both stood stock still, both trying to gauge the other's current mood.

Finally, the whistling of the tea kettle settled the matter.

Moving towards the sound, Sara asked without turning around, "Tea or coffee?"

Gil closed the door calmly, his insides shaking with emotion at the surreal nature of this casual conversation.

"Tea's fine."

He sat at the breakfast bar as she poured them each a cup.

After a sip, he had held back for as long as he could.

"Sara-"

"Don't," she responded emphatically, then after a breath, "How was your flight? And how did you get from the airport to the lab anyway?"

Inhaling deeply, Gil decided to play along with her wishes to delay talking about the events of outside her office.

He gulped some more of the hot liquid, its warmth soothing some of his anxiety.

"Flight came in yesterday afternoon, around 3:30."

Sara nodded as she walked towards the refrigerator for lemon to add to her drink.

"And you arranged with someone for a ride to the lab?" she added with perfunctory curiosity as her head dipped behind the opened door to pull out a lemon from the lower crisper drawers.

"Yeah, I called Brass," Gil answered and then raised his cup to finish off his drink.

Those actions distracted him from the fact that Sara stood frozen, her eyes tightly shut at the pain that once again shot through her system.

_I talked with Brass yesterday at 3:30…took him the reading glasses…_

Her hands clenched at the flashback of Heather in the arrival area.

_He's lied to me…again…_

Sara shook off her reaction, choosing to keep the semblance of peace until she had time to deal with this new development.

Oblivious to the shift in Sara's mood, Gil seemed more relaxed now.

Sitting up taller and stretching out his hands towards her, Sara flinched inwardly as he took hold of her hand as if admiring its softness.

"Sara, we need to talk."

She wasn't prepared for this, she told herself. She needed more time.

"Not now," Sara said quickly as she turned to the sink where she poured out the remainder of her unwanted drink.

She startled as his arms suddenly wrapped around her from behind.

Near her ear, his voice made her tremble, "May I take you out to dinner, then?"

All Sara wanted to do was sink back into his warmth and quite possibly never emerge.

Yet part of her wondered how she would get past the fact that he lied to her twice in two days.

"May I?" he asked again softly as he increased the pressure of his grip just a bit.

With every ounce of inner strength, Sara moved forward while Gil released his grip.

Without meeting his gaze, she just turned her head and nodded softly.

Putting some distance between them, Sara added softly, "I'll go get ready."


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: This chapter is a bit longer, but these two demanded a resolution of sorts…angst continues to ebb and flow…hope you will continue to read and/or review…it makes writing so much more focused…more in a few days as we take a road trip on our way home…this guy I married is a real gem…Kathy

The restaurant was a favorite, and Sara smiled warmly at the happy memories of the past dates in this elegant arena.

Gil's hand rested softly against Sara's lower back, and a familiar feeling of warmth spread through her.

Checking the view over her shoulder, she saw somewhat of a sense of pride in Gil's stance as he moved them effortlessly to their corner table.

Seated against the rich mahogany paneling, she moved slightly to allow Gil to slip in next to her as he often liked to do onto the softly padded bench.

Her eyes flicked left and then startled wide open as she observed him thanking the waiter as he lowered himself to the chair opposite from her.

_Sara, we need to talk._

The words that preceded his invitation resounded loudly in her ears, as her heart thumped wildly in her chest.

For his own part, Gil was settling the nerves that were causing him to have the worst case of heartburn in recent memory.

_I had wanted to talk to her, clear the air…but when I realized that what Sara might say may be painful…like a coward I suggested dinner…here…in the place we had come to on our first official date…where I had presented her with Mom's engagement ring after that awkward proposal…surely…surely _here_ she wouldn't break my heart…_

Both were so lost in thoughts that when the waiter came to fill their glasses with ice water, Sara jerked her head upwards and asked for a _large_ bottle of Merlot.

Gil looked pained at Sara's obvious need for a drink. It only took a moment to realize perhaps that might not be such a bad thing for either of them.

Their order placed, Gil tried to initiate small talk.

Sara answered quietly, forcing the bile down that was threatening to gag her.

She felt so lonely, almost sequestered away from him.

Why was he putting so much distance between them?

Thoughts whipped nonstop of his past liaisons with Heather, complete with the long-ago admissions from his very own mouth that he once had held onto her tightly as a measure of comfort.

Sara thought that _she_ could certainly use some of that comfort right this minute.

Heather smirking, Heather _smiling_, Heather _looking right through her_ – the images would not stop haunting her.

"Sara?" Gil asked trying for a tone that was casual but ending up bordered with concern, "you okay?"

Her eyes shot to his, and tears threatened but were tamped down by will alone.

"Fine," she replied as her spine stiffened, glad for the reprieve of the waiter's reappearance.

Sara was anything but patient as she waited for him to uncork the bottle, agonizing as she watched him pour a bit into Gil's glass for him to swill the red relief before tasting it and pronouncing it good.

Gil noted how she all but attacked her cocktail, gulping twice before returning the now half-empty glass to the table.

His eyebrows shot up questioning her actions, and Sara's irritation was growing.

"Relax, Gil. I don't have a drinking problem anymore," she spoke without returning his gaze but with a coolness that surprised him.

"I'm not worried. I'm concerned," he replied, and the memory of that dysfunctional time in their relationship caused Sara's heart to break.

_Right back to where we started…_

Leaning forward, Gil's upset was reflected in his eyes as he reached out for Sara's hand which sadly remained gripped around the stemware.

Undaunted, he left his hand outstretched as he began, "Sara-"

"Don't, Gil," Sara's voice quivered suddenly and a bit too forcefully, almost…fearfully.

_This is the place it all started…but is this where it ends?_

_Did he bring me here tonight just to tell me he wants someone else?_

"Honey-" he tried again, his arm still outstretched but with opened palm now clenching tightly reflecting some of his heartache at her obvious rejection.

The look in Sara's eyes stopped Gil from uttering another word.

The pain he saw reflected in her brown saucer-like eyes took his breath away.

He looked puzzled for a moment as Sara swung the large crystal goblet to her lips and downed the rest of her drink in one gulp.

In the next breath, he discovered the reason for her obvious discomfort.

"Grissom."

Gil's head swerved so sharply that he was sure the entire room could hear his neck vertebrae snap out of place.

"Heather."

The woman was dressed impeccably and oozed a sensual aura that had heads turning throughout her short trek to this destination.

Gil's manners were automatic, and he stood to greet her and her guest.

"James Gilman," the man greeted Gil with a genuine smile and a warm handshake as Heather interrupted with a knowing smile.

"Gil, James is in head of the Harper Foundation."

"Mr. Gilman…I've read about your foundation's work," Gil spoke with authority hinged with just an edge of uncertainty.

"And I have been learning about you and _your_ unique talents, Dr. Grissom," the well-groomed man replied as his eyes shifted to the table and the woman half-hidden from his view.

"Oh! Excuse me," Gil spoke up as he shifted, looking as if he just remembered Sara was actually there.

"James, this is Gil's wife, Sara," Heather said by way of introduction.

"My pleasure," the executive smiled, and was greeted with merely a perfunctory nod before Sara's eyes dropped as she reached for the wine bottle and poured another full glass while her husband glared at her obvious snub.

"Oh…I see we might be catching you at the wrong time," James spoke as his eyes flitted between Heather's amused stare and Gil's obvious unease.

Unaffected by Sara's behavior, Heather continued to speak directly to Gil, "I have a seat on the board of James' company."

"And I'm happy to have her," the older gentleman interjected in a boisterous, jovial tone.

Heather's response was halted when she turned her head at the muffled guffaw that was emitted over the rim of the wine glass raised behind her.

Smiling patiently, Heather's stare challenged, and with lips loosened by the emptied second glass Sara's stare never left its rim now darkened by lipstick-dampened Merlot.

She didn't blink as her head tilted slightly while the words softly rolled off with a smirk, "I bet," before her slim hand reached for the bottle one more time.

Gil's eyes widened at the obvious attempt at double entendre, and if looks could kill…

However, Heather didn't miss a beat as she continued speaking directly to Grissom.

"…and there is a new venture the company is discussing that requires a man with your expertise."

Turning her gaze towards James, the man pivoted slightly before he continued, "Dr. Grissom, there are some other board members here that I'd like you to introduce you to, if I may."

Moving slightly into her line of vision, James addressed Sara, "That is, if you don't mind my stealing your date for a short while."

Before Grissom could voice his regrets in turning down the offer, Sara locked eyes with Heather briefly before tilting her head, forcing a smile in response as she raised her wine glass in a mock toast and added, "He's all yours."

Heather smiled with a triumphant tilt of her head, and James gloated, "Fine, fine," as his hand rose to Gil's elbow and turned him towards the aisle leading to the corporate gathering.

Gil hesitated only a moment in glancing back at Sara with a piercing glare before following behind Heather, his irritation with his wife's attitude and with her drinking momentarily blinding him to the fact that he still hadn't discovered the cause for her recent puzzling behavior.

The introductions and small talk - leading to promises to discuss business in a meeting at a time to be arranged the following afternoon, - had lasted through two rounds of drinks, after which Gil returned to the table.

He was greeted by once-chilled plates of untouched house salads setting beside a near-empty wine bottle - and an abandoned benchseat.

Setting heavily in his chair, Gil closed his eyes and wondered how they had gotten to this point in their relationship.

He now stared at her vacated place and was starting to realize the terrifying truth that the distance between them was becoming more than just physical.

Suddenly he was startled from his thoughts by the presence of a questioning waiter, and Gil pulled his wallet out while asking the confused gentleman for the check.

With a heavy heart, he breathed in slowly, his eyes fixed on the empty seat across from him.

_What's happening with you, honey?_

Gil Grissom never cared for puzzles where the pieces just didn't make sense.

Scrawling his name heavily onto the credit card receipt, he barely contained his displeasure at this ruined evening as he threw the pen down and made broad strides out of the restaurant.

He was determined to find some answers.

gsrgsrgsrgsr

Sara swayed only slightly and walked slowly but with surprisingly-sure paces as she moved amid the throngs of partygoers and tourists.

Somewhere in her confusion, in the twists and turns needed to navigate through the heavily traveled sidewalk, it dawned on her that she was moving in the exact opposite direction of the pedestrian traffic.

_Like salmon swimming upstream._

Her movements were aimless, her destination unsure except to put some distance between her and a husband who probably still was clueless that she had exited the restaurant while his back was to her as Heather's graceful fingers latched themselves onto his forearm.

She had endured plenty in her lifetime, but seeing that bitch with her hands on Grissom was more than she was willing to put up with tonight.

At the next crosswalk, Sara was pressed comfortably in the middle of a group waiting for the light and was able to cross the busy traffic safely.

As her attention was hampered by the effects of the large volume of wine she had hastily consumed, she failed to notice the figure that mirrored her motions from a discrete distance behind her.

Finding herself now on the other side, Sara suddenly found herself without a clear destination.

Jostled a bit by the scurrying herd around her, she waded through the masses turning in either direction making her way to the bricked wall of a movie theater and leaned heavily against it.

The people with whom she had crossed now had disappeared into the pulse of the Strip, all heading to their next destination as she stood motionless on the sidelines.

She stood there for an indefinite period, wondering if any of those salmon ever found themselves so off-course that they were lost…forever struggling but never finding their way to the comfort of home.

_Perhaps they just gave up the struggle and accepted defeat at the hands of the overpowering waves._

Halfway down the block, a figure moved stealthily and inched slowly towards Sara, taking advantage of the buildings' shadows.

She stood there for the longest time, unsure of exactly what she was going to do.

And if anyone even cared if she did it.

Sara closed her eyes for a moment, or a minute, or…maybe it was longer.

A tear slipped without consent down her cheek, but she made no move to brush it away.

She wanted to go home.

But she knew that, as always, home was wherever Grissom was.

Sara wondered again if Gil even wanted to be with her anymore, especially after tonight.

She was sure she had angered him by her behavior, yet the more she drank the more she felt the need to raise the shields and strike a defensive blow.

And so she had just left before he returned, unable to stand the thoughts of seeing him return from spending time with Heather…

And fearing the sight of him looking as if he wanted to be anywhere else but with this tired figure of a mess of a wife…

And watching him come back merely because he felt some _responsibility_ to finish this dinner with her...that worry had caused her to flee.

So, she left to give him the space she thought he needed, to "do what he had to do".

This whole evening was a nightmare.

She blamed herself, of course.

He'd reached out to her and all she could do was shut him down before he uttered words she feared would break her.

On some deepest level, she wondered if her fears were irrational, but what Gil had always said reverberated through her muddled thoughts, "People lie…the evidence doesn't lie…"

She hated Heather Kessler.

She hated that Gil didn't.

Then Philip's words haunted her: "…he chose _you_."

Philip.

She wished he were here; he'd been there for her in the past when her world was falling apart.

He'd help her know what to do.

She felt so alone, and the drink was now taking its full effect on her thinking.

Sara opened her eyes and realized her vision seemed a bit out-of-focus.

And in the shadows, the figure was moving closer to where she leaned against the building struggling to keep her composure.

Her hand reached clumsily into her evening bag, and she swayed forward a bit before reclaiming the safety of the sturdy wall behind her.

She fumbled through the directory and punched in the number, impatiently waiting for someone to answer.

"You've reached the voicemail box…"

Sara moved the phone from her ear and stared at it with despairing eyes.

Tears welled up until the display was unreadable and, just as Sara was about bring it back to plead for Philip to return her call, a large hand placed itself over hers and closed the unit with a snap…

**A quarter hour before,** Gil had thrown open the doors of the restaurant with both hands as he stepped out into the warm Vegas night.

Choosing what he hoped was the most likely path Sara would have taken if she hadn't hailed a cab, his pace had been hurried as he dodged in and around through the meandering throng on the crowded walkway, his footsteps kept time to the racing beat of his heart.

After several tense moments that caused him to ponder if he was just wasting his time, Gil had continued to scan both sides of the street and had been relieved to finally spot his wife leaning against the shadowed wall of the movie theater.

Gil's anger had fizzled as his gaze locked on her while he waited for the light to change before he could cross the street to her location.

Against the setting of the hustling nightlife that streamed past her location, she looked small, vulnerable…and presented a classic picture of a truly lost soul.

His heart had clenched as reality came crashing down upon him as it often did when he took the time to direct his attention solely on his wife.

Flashbacks of this evening's events assailed him, and then Gil had found himself facing the uncomfortable fact that he done this to her by his selfish, careless actions tonight.

With his total focus now on his wife, Gil had moved across the street totally unaware of the close proximity of another figure approaching his wife's location.

Fortunately, Gil had reached Sara just as the figure was poised to act.

Without missing a step, the stalker just shifted trajectory and blended into the crowd while moving past the pair who was currently so focused on each other that they remained oblivious to the danger that had just been averted.

Her eyes refused to move from the warm hand that covered her cell phone still tightly grasped in her hand.

Sara hung her head in disbelief as she heard the strains of hope in his voice.

"C,mon…I'll take you home."

Words from the past, now striking back to stir up those same feelings of self-recrimination.

Her phone was removed gently from her hand and placed in her bag, and before she could fully grasp what was happening Sara found herself pulled into a tight embrace.

As he left the restaurant, there were many things Gil had rehearsed to say to her when he finally found her.

Angry, spiteful words that would frame his insistence that she tell him what the hell was happening with her.

Instead, now that he stood with her held against him, he could intone only one thought.

"I love you, Sara."

She didn't have the strength to prevent the sobs she attempted to muffle as her whole body seemed to sigh in the relief of those arms protecting her from the pain of the last few days.

"I'm sorry, honey…so sorry if I haven't given you reasons to believe me…but I do, Sara…I do love you…_only you_…" he intoned softly, hating the way things were between them right now and vowing to make them right again.

Her body suddenly was overcome with a deep exhaustion as the heartache and unanswered questions that had burdened her were temporarily forgotten in the feel of his heart racing against the ear now pressed so lovingly against his chest.

"I love you, Sara…I _need_ you…please…let's go home…everything will be alright…you'll see…."

Pulling away slightly, Gil lifted her chin with one large finger and pressed his lips to hers.

"Let's go home."

Sara's mind swirled with fatigue, and she swooned slightly before feeling strong arms supporting her, pulling her tightly into his firm body.

Her mind replayed his words over and over to the exclusion of all other thought.

"…_everything will be alright…you'll see…"_

She held on to his promise, burrowing herself into him as she refused to dwell on any thought except how much she loved this man.

The sound emanating from her purse indicated an incoming call, but neither party wanted to relinquish the comfort of their embrace.

Hours later as Sara slept soundly with her body still pulled tightly against him, Gil was lost in thought over everything that had occurred between them that evening.

Suddenly, he remembered that buzz and reached across to grab the purse he'd taken from her before helping her undress in his haste to join his body to hers in the age-old reassuring dance of love.

Long ago when they first got together, they both had agreed to help each other by checking caller ID for messages, particularly when one was on-call or working a hot case.

Flipping the phone open and pressing several keys, his jaw tightened as both incoming and outgoing call lists read a single name.

_Philip. _


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Today is our first day back from "the vacation to remember"…this is a short but important interlude for our favorite couple...some actions are explained as they finally have their talk…yet, there is still much to be discussed…trying to get back to the regular posting schedule, but more if time permits…thanks for sticking with this story…all mistakes are mine as I'm posting without a reread…take care…Kathy

Sara's eyes opened slowly as she held her body rigid, and age-old defensive move to help identify her environment upon awakening.

In the distance, she could hear movement in their kitchen area and, after discerning no warmth nearby, concluded that she was alone in the room.

Rolling over, her head complained of her overindulgence the previous night.

Her eyes shifted to the clock, widening slightly at the lateness of the hour.

Before she had time to mull over the distressing events of the previous day, she was startled at the voice that greeted her from the doorway.

"Ah, so the sleeping beauty awakes."

Her smile was lazy as she drew her gaze to this man who she loved with all her heart.

Just the image of him standing there could bring a tear to her eye from the sheer joy of having him home after all this time.

She watched him move towards their bed and remained silent as he crawled to her before nearly engulfing her with this body shifting prone over her.

"Good morning, Mrs. Grissom."

Those words could make her heart sing, and in that instant she recalled another morning long ago when he had first returned to their bed smiling those same words.

Her arms tugged him closer, needing to wear him as an armor against the unsettling thoughts and memories that had recently plagued her.

As if in understanding, Gil whispered in her ear as his hands raked softly through her hair, "I'm here, Sara. I'm not going anywhere."

Feeling her body relax with that repeated assurance, he moved off her slightly to kiss her with all the love that continued to flow from his happy heart.

He pulled her with him as he rolled onto his back, and she was content to follow.

After a long while of just stroking her hair and placing soft kisses on her forehead, Gil asked, "How are you feeling, honey?"

The automatic nature of her, "Fine," disturbed him, knowing how upset she had been the night before.

With a sigh containing irritation that was more apparent than he wished, "Sara…"

Her brow crinkled in confusion; _he was here with her, she _was_ fine._

Before she could qualify that statement, his next words broke the ease of the morning.

"…don't lie to me, _please_."

He was shocked at swiftness of her movements.

Having rolled away from him, she now found herself standing at the foot of the bed glaring at this man who could provoke such deep emotions to the surface with a glance or a phrase.

Shaking her head angrily, the festering hurt and worry of the last few weeks seemed to explode within her.

"What's good for the goose is good for the gander, Gil," she spat, falling back on his use of mindless quotations to make her point as her anger was making her head spin.

His usual calm exterior stoked the coals of her anger, but his quiet, heartfelt response decimated her own reserve.

"I've never lied to you, Sara."

Her hand smacked the poster bed as she turned angrily towards the door.

"Fine," she bit out turning to leave, only to find herself suddenly turned around and imprisoned by his grip pinning her downturned arms to her side.

Forced to face him, at first she refused to look at him, but his head movements insisted on created an eye contact.

Glaring at him, he repeated purposefully, "I've never lied to you, Sara."

She stood unmoving, expecting him to melt under her knowing glare.

His arms relaxed as the hurt in his eyes grew.

He searched her face for any indication that she believed him.

"I've. Never. Lied. To. You." he insisted.

Her silence caused him to pull back from her and sit heavily on the side of the bed.

Happy that she didn't stalk off immediately, he inhaled deeply before glancing up at her closed off expression.

"Tell me what's troubling you, honey…please."

Upset as she was, she calmed a little at the expression and body language he was displaying before her.

When she didn't speak, Gil pressed on.

"These last two weeks…I've noticed a…change…I sat, waiting, every night…hoping to talk to you…to just see you…"

Her heart was softening as she pictured him, alone in his cabin, waiting for her to appear on his screen.

Guilt flooded her, and now she was having trouble looking at him.

"Sara…" he pleaded softly again, and when she finally locked eyes with him, "I've never lied to you."

Her lips closed and were sucked in slightly before she nodded her head and turned to walk away.

She felt his hand clamp around her wrist.

"Sara…"

She closed her eyes and inhaled swiftly to present him with a picture of compliance and acceptance.

Except that experience taught him to read past that look.

He pulled her to stand before him so that he could look up her eyes for the truth.

"Why do you think I lied to you? Please, honey, help me understand so I can fix it…fix _this_..between us."

Her voice was gravelly as she held her gaze to the side.

"Your phone call."

Gil wracked his mind and finally shrugged that she needed to give him more.

"It was Heather."

That admission cost her greatly, and she hated that a tear slipped out.

Gil released her hands to pull her closer, and she swiped it away with movements that showed more resignation that anger.

"It was," he answered, and Sara was puzzled to find confusion in his tone.

Ever the investigator, she pressed for understanding.

"I know. I, uh, heard you…from the doorway."

Her eyebrows furrowed as his expectant gaze urged her to continue.

"You _told_ me it was a business call."

No reaction.

"About some _consulting_."

His silence made her rethink the evidence.

"_The evidence never lies, but sometimes people misinterpret the evidence_."

"_I_____believe I said___ first opinions are crucial, but if the_____evidence changes___**, **___so must the theory___."_

Sara continued to stare at him, and finally Gil felt compelled to speak.

"Sara," he tried in his calmest voice, "Heather was on her way to a board meeting and wanted me to meet her there to discuss working on that project funded by the Harper Foundation."

"_Gil, James is the head of the Harper Foundation."_

His words brought her out of her musings.

"…told her that you were here…"

"_No, Heather…listen…Heather…I can't right now…Sara's still home…"_

"…and I had no intentions of leaving you now that we finally had some alone time together."

_Oh, god._

Hope was springing to life slowly, but Sara needed to put it all out on the table.

Inching closer but with her guard still in place, she hesitated before looking in his eyes and continuing.

"You told me Brass gave you a ride to the lab from the airport."

It was Gil's turn to be confused.

"Nooo.." he said slowly, "_Catherine_ came to gather me from the airport."

"No…no…I stood in the kitchen right by the refrigerator and I asked you-"

A soft smile played at Gil's lips and with a light chuckle he interrupted, "…if I arranged with someone for a ride to the lab…Sara," he rushed, "I called Jim after I _made_ the travel arrangements. He said he'd come to the airport. If he wasn't free, he'd ask Catherine. And he did. He told me he was out in the suburbs somewhere."

Sara closed her eyes in reaction to the new input that was threatening to overwhelm her.

Could she really have been so upset over _nothing_?

"Hey," Gil soft voice mirrored that loving expression on his face, "there's still something else, isn't there?"

Sara opened her eyes to gaze on this man who seemed pleased that she was accepting his explanation.

_There's no way I could have misinterpreted this, though..._

"Honey, please…ask away…I have no secrets from you."

"Gil…" Sara turned away, and Gil's heart ached for how upset she was becoming.

"Sara…I've only ever known one thing that has caused such hurt in our relationship…Sara, does this have anything to do with Heather?"

Her eyes snapped to his, but found only concern in his unflinching gaze.

"She, uh, she knew…about the Moche."

Sara watched as his head tilted slightly, a movement that always indicated he was searching his memory banks for the answer he knew was within his reach.

His eyes opened more fully a second later as he inhaled in a way that meant the next statement was going to be painful to him.

"Heather…Sara, she somehow…" inhaling deeper, he exhaled and closed his eyes in that typical Grissom move, "_she_ initiated a SKYPE chat…I talked to her about three weeks ago, after you emailed to say you were going to be caught up in court…the Merendez case, remember?"

Remaining silent, Sara's face didn't reveal her thoughts on his revelation.

Inhaling again, determined to make a clean breast of things, Gil added, "_And _she initiated another chat session on the same day I decided to come home."

"Why _did _you come?" Sara asked in a small voice.

Gil pulled her close to him, happy that she melted against him.

"You worried me…" he pulled away to look at her, "I'm still worried about you."

Her soft smile rang true this time, "I'm sorry… I thought you…"

Gil pulled her face closer to his, "I love _you_, honey, I promise you I'll never lie to you."

His words made Sara uneasy, knowing he was baring his soul to her, and she had so many things she was keeping from him.

"Hey," he smiled, "are you hungry?"

He was concerned about her negative response, but feeling the tension in her body as she now hugged him tightly, Gil thought of another way to help her relax.

"Then…how do you feel about splurging on a tub full of bubbles?"

Gil smiled as she laughed and pulled away to look in his eyes.

Her finger lazed down his chest as she asked saucily, "Only if you join me."

He slapped her lightly on her tush and said, "Well, what are we waiting for?"

Remaining seated on the edge of their bed, Gil's smile faltered slightly as Sara disappeared around the corner.

His head fell in relief that finally he had Sara's confidence that he was keeping nothing from her.

He only wished he could shake the unease that still plagued him about his wife's recent behavior.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Weekend storms knocked out our power, so I was only online for a time at a friend's over the weekend…I will try hard to make up for lost post time by trying to post every day this week (though the chapters may be shorter)…tension is increasing, and the angst builds…clues continue to be intermingled with the action…hope you're on for the ride…your reviews continue to make the effort well worth the while…all mistakes are mine…look forward to more hopefully tomorrow…take care…Kathy

Sara smiled as she made her way through the hallway leading to her office.

Gil had wanted to drive her to the lab, but she cited their 'afternoon activities' as reasons for him to stay home and rest.

It felt good to have someone at home waiting for her.

Turning the final corner, she spotted Tessa clearing the corner at the end of the hall at that exact moment.

"Sara! OOhh! Wait until you see!" the lab tech squealed, and Sara wondered what in the world could be so exciting.

The two met outside the door to the office, and Tessa continued to ramble on before Sara chuckled and held her hands up in a halting motion.

"Slow down, Tessa! Now, what exactly has you all fired up?" she smiled as the blonde bounced up and down on her heels.

"Judy brought them down to your office. OOhh, Sara!" was the reply as she moved into the office and sat down at Greg's desk.

Sara's eyes turned to follow the giddy tech, only to have her own breath halted at the sight of the object on her desk.

A huge bouquet of mixed wildflowers adorned a jeweled vase that was so ornate as to send shimmering prism rainbows flooding Sara's office area.

Sara sat down with a _thump_, her mouth agape with the stunning visual effect before her.

"OOhh, Sara…I never saw anything _so_ beautiful," Tessa continued to gush, but Sara was no longer listening.

"But..who?..." was all that she could respond, her fingers delicately caressing several of the fragrant blooms.

"I don't know, but I can't wait to find Greg to tell him!" Tessa breathed and then bolted out of the room.

Sara leaned back into her chair, swiveling slightly in a rocking motion as she wondered why Gil would have sent these to the office.

_Besides, he knows I prefer live plants…still, these flowers and this vase _are_ amazingly beautiful…_

Her lips kicked up on one side as she searched for and found the card tucked in front among the blossoms.

The red envelope was larger than the usual flower shop fare, she noted absently, as her fingers moved to pull out the sentiment.

Her heart seized as her eyes widened at the message obviously printed on a word processor.

"_Yet not unmeet it was that __**one**__, like that young friend of ours,  
>So gentle and so beautiful, <em>_**should perish**__ with the flowers."_

_You will not escape this time, Sara._

Sara vaguely recognized this verse from a poem she'd studied in college, but the last words struck her speechless.

Her face paled and her breathing became shallow as fear encompassed her entire being.

Flashbacks assaulted her…the raging water…the smothering heat…losing hope of ever seeing Gil again…

The flight response was now in full gear, and Sara's chair tipped backwards as she raced from the room.

Unaware of the presence of disinterested techs passing her in the corridor, Sara stumbled in an effort to get away from the threat, to find _someone _who would protect her from letting it happen all over again.

Turning the corner, she ran straight into Greg who grabbed onto her tightly before her momentum sent them both tumbling to the ground.

Seeing her fear, Greg pulled them against the wall as he moved them into one of the empty supply areas.

"Sara…I got you…you're okay, you're okay…" his voice soothed until he could feel her limbs relax.

It took a few minutes until he felt comfortable in releasing her, although his worry did nothing but escalate.

"Sara…you okay?" Greg's soft voice lilted over the sound of her heartbeat as it still pounded in her ears.

She inhaled deeply before looking around to take in the safety of her surroundings.

"I'm going to call Grissom," Greg began as he reached for his phone, only to be stopped by Sara's hand on his.

"No, Greg, don't, please don't," she spoke softly as her throat still felt constricted with fear.

He eyed her warily, but she shook her head more to clear it than to continue to argue with him.

"What's going on, Sara? What gave you such a fright?"

Instead of responding, Sara simply made her way to the door and made eye contact in a bid to get him to follow her.

Once again, the pulse of the lab didn't indicate recognition of Sara's problem, and the two arrived at the threshold of the doorway and halted at the sight before them.

Ken Fuller lay relaxed with his chair tilted so that his feet were comfortably making themselves at home right on Greg's desk.

Tessa was standing near the edge of Greg's desk and looked as if she were enjoying the attention Ken was giving her.

The sight angered Greg and unnerved Sara as the last person she needed to deal with at this moment was Ken Fuller.

Tessa's smile faded as Sara moved towards her desk.

"Sara? You okay?"

Not wanting Ken to have any inkling of the threat Sara had read in the note, her mouth muscles tugged sharply to move her mouth into an ingenuous smile.

"I'm fine."

Her hands shook slightly as she moved to retrieve the note she had simply thrown down – but it wasn't on her desk.

Sara's head turned towards her chair which now sat in its normal position at the desk instead of tossed haphazardly to the floor.

With furrowed brows, her hands moved again towards the flower arrangement – only to find a florist's envelope still tucked into the usual trident holder at the side of the blooms.

This white envelope was smaller and looked as if it hadn't been opened.

Shaking her head in disbelief, suddenly Greg's fingers appeared in her line of vision while reaching over to retrieve the envelope and open it.

His eyes moved suspiciously towards Sara as he twisted the message so that only she could read the contents.

_Thinking of you, Sarabelle. Sorry we've been playing phone tag. Call me when you get this to _

_let me know you're okay. I'm missing you now that I'm back on campus. Wish I could make you _

_come now. Can't wait to eatyoulater. Love, Philip_

Knowing the sender, Greg was confused as to what else besides this message could have caused such a reaction in Sara.

He wondered if there might be a problem with Sara letting Grissom know about Philip, but he dismissed that concern knowing that Sara had always been in love with Grissom and would be faithful to her husband.

"Sara?" Tessa's questioned as she moved towards her, "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah…yes," Sara replied but refused to look Greg in the eyes.

"These are just _so_ lovely," Tessa gushed again and was surprised when Sara grabbed them and all but thrust them into the blonde's hands.

"Then take them, just…just take them the hell out of here!" Sara's words became louder as she finished before turning to leave the room.

"Well," sighed Ken as he stood and patted Greg condescendingly on the shoulder, "guess that means we are heading out for our 'night on the town'."

Before Greg could respond with a warning, Tessa was already going on about how strange Sara was acting but how terrific it was that she would be able to keep these lovely flowers and that she had a perfect place for them in the lab…

Greg tucked the sentiment card back into the envelope before tossing it onto Sara's desk, his hand grasping the flower arrangement from Tessa's hands as she smiled and led them towards her lab with him carrying the large vase behind her.

Gsrgsrgsrgsrgsrgsr

Catherine had assigned Sara and Nick to cover a home invasion with fatality, bristling that Ken insisted on riding with Sara.

_If he pulls that "Sheriff's card" one more time, I'll take care of this jerk personally._

At the scene, officers were assigned inside and outside the building after it had been cleared.

Ken reclined against the cruiser, engaging the young officer in conversation as Sara tried to focus on her examination of the perimeter.

Questions swirled through her thoughts, however, and her mind began examining what had occurred in her office.

_I know that white envelope wasn't there…I know it!_

_And what happened to the chair, that red envelope, and that threatening note?_

Her hands began to shake as she forced one into the front pocket of her slacks and the other to tighten its grip on her Maglite.

Thoughts of her counseling sessions in San Francisco flashed before her.

_Have you had flashbacks to the desert, Sara?_

_Have you felt confusion, had anything you could contribute to a delusion about your ordeal, Sara?_

Under her breath, she mimicked angrily, "Are you losing your _mind_, Sara?"

It was her anger with the therapist's transparently homogenous treatment plan that caused her to bottle up the anguish of her kidnapping that continued to affect her most in her quiet moments.

It was one reason she had encouraged Gil to work apart from her when the opportunity arose for her to return to Vegas alone.

She was determined to face her past head-on and deal on her own with these demons from the desert.

She still worried that she would fail at that task, and she didn't want the man she loved to watch her fall apart.

Which is why she always worried that incidents like that fright at the lab might occur.

Perhaps she _was_ losing her mind.

So lost in thought, Sara didn't realize she had made it to the edge of the darkened backyard.

A freshly-tilled garden fenced in the lawn from the hedges that lined the open field beyond the property.

Her Maglite revealed two separate sets of footprints, and when Sara knelt down it appeared that they were fresh.

Perching her light on a large stone, Sara reached for her phone to inform Nick of her find.

Before she could click it open, suddenly Sara was hyper-aware of two almost simultaneous events.

From the darkness behind her a voice called, "Sara…"

Before she could turn around her brain registered the familiar incapacitation of a taser barb as it penetrated her side weakly through the padding of her CSI vest.

From within her shocked mind, Sara was only slightly aware of her hair being grabbed to allow access to her opened mouth.

Something cold and wet was washing over her, splashing into her mouth with such force as she unconsciously choke- swallowed some to prevent drowning until the flow seemed to recede on its own.

Her limbs refused to move yet she was almost aware of rough cloth scrubbing her face, something yanking off her vest, fingers on her body as she was filled with the relief of having the throbbing pain suddenly removed from her side.

Sara felt herself drifting off, almost flying though she could still feel the damp earth beneath her.

Thoughts of music playing in the background, warm hands massaging away the cares of the day, blurred into the frightening psychotic images that now flashed before her eyes.

Time stood still until Sara groaned as the dark grew hands that shook first then carried her towards the blinding light.

The light screamed her name and shouted blurred sounds before the swirling hues arrived and screamed as the light suddenly pinched and squeezed and hovered as it floated her painfully at a great rate of speed.

Thoughts of soothing music again were distracted by the figures of light insisting she obey them, but their words passed by her before she could catch them in understanding.

She wanted to return to the place with the soothing music.

The soothing music meant it was a safe place…she knew Grissom would be there.

_Grissom._


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: The weather continues to play havoc with Internet service, but hopefully we are in for a calmer stretch (fingers crossed)…thanks for the great reviews…the story moves ahead as your support of this story continues to encourage and it most appreciated…all mistakes are mine…more soon as it's ready – planning on tomorrow if not before…take care…Kathy…

The ambulance pulled up to the Emergency bay and screeched to a stop.

The back doors flew open to pull out the stretcher in a practiced dance that found Sara and her medical entourage racing towards the automatic doors in a heartbeat.

In an effort to get the injured CSI to immediate treatment, Nick had allowed the paramedics to take Sara alone while he raced towards his own vehicle to follow.

As his hands moved to flip his car's shift to Reverse, Nick was startled as his passenger door flew open and Ken dropped into the seat just as the gunning of the engine caused the door to slam shut.

Not in the mood to deal with this unwanted interruption, Nick just pealed out of the driveway and tried to focus on what had just occurred at the crime scene.

Clicking his phone to speed dial Brass, the conversation was peppered with heated questions and defensive answers as the two dealt with their concerns over Sara.

Back at the hospital, Sara was moved quickly into a triage area where the resident on call was completing his first week in this hospital area.

Quickly assessing this patient as a "classic drug overdose", the lanky doctor dismissed the severity of the situation as just another "Vegas party girl" - without taking the time to talk to the paramedics who had brought in this groaning woman.

Assigning her to a cubicle at the end of the hall, the resident dismissed any further interest in the treatment of the patient as he left in search of a more challenging (read: interesting) case.

This did not sit well with the nurse assigned to this doctor, his reputation for quick diagnosis – often prejudiced by patient appearance – was rapidly labeling him among the devoted nursing staff.

Having made Sara as comfortable as possible in her assigned space, the nurse stayed with her and made comforting conversation to this woman who seemed unaware of anything but the demons that haunted her mind.

Something about this patient nagged at the nurse, and she moved a gentle hand over Sara's hair attempting to soothe the anguish caused by whatever this woman was seeing behind her closed eyes.

She used the patient call button to request the resident to return to her area, and the longer she waited the more incensed she was at the treatment this poor woman was receiving.

Without instruction, the nurse inserted an IV with saline to eliminate the wait time for any drugs the "good doctor" might dain to order to ease this woman's mental nightmares.

After an insufferable wait, the even more insufferable ego returned.

Barely glancing at the patient he flipped the chart open and, after a cursory review of her vitals, flipped the chart closed after writing a prescription for Narcan to be delivered by IV.

The nurse continued to move her stare between the cocky resident and the patient, that nagging "something" about this woman bothering her enough to ask, "That's it?"

Not taking kindly to having his judgment questioned by a mere nurse, he glared at her in response as he turned to leave the cubicle.

"You're not going to examine her?" the nurse challenged, knowing from experience what his response was going to be.

"Nurse…_Kane_…is it? Just do what you're told. This woman obviously partied too hard, and now she has to pay the price for it. The Narcan will help eliminate whatever she was stupid enough to put into her system."

And with that, the resident left to gift the rest of ER with more of his diagnostic skills.

Incensed, Nurse Mary Kane gave Sara a reassuring pat on her hand before moving out into the hallway to the ER pharmacy.

A few moments later, as she was signing out the prepackaged Narcan drip, a sense of déjà vu settled over her.

Hugging the drug to her chest, Mary raced to the wall phone outside the unit and hurriedly asked the operator to page Dr. West in the Trauma Unit to come to the ER…_STAT_….

gsrgsrgsrgsrgsr

Brass pulled up outside of the townhouse and scrubbed his face roughly with both hands in an attempt to erase the pain of having to once again relate this story.

This was news he wanted to deliver in person.

The ringing of the doorbell was followed by a quick succession of knocks.

The door opened to find Brass faced with a smiling Grissom.

Any greetings fell silent as one look at his old friend seized Gil's heart with terror.

"Where is she? What's happened?" he rushed and his pale face made Jim's stomach sink.

"Gil…get dressed…she's at Desert Palms…that's all I know," Brass spoke trying to muster the appearance of support for his friend but finding himself just as much in need of it.

Uncaring as to the casual set of sweats that he was wearing, he set about grabbing his keys and phone from the hallway table and brushed past Jim as the door slammed shut behind him.

He made it to the car as Brass ran to the driver's side as he hit the sirens and took off with a speed that interrupted the calm of this normal quiet neighborhood.

"What do you know?" Gil asked in full investigator mode, and Jim recognized the jaw set.

This work mode was the only way his friend could handle the personal hell he was experiencing.

Brass breathed deeply to help his friend assimilate the facts needed to deal with this nightmare.

"She was searching the perimeter of the scene, walked around the back of the house, was overpowered by suspect or suspects unknown..."

Gil's head snapped to Brass whose eyes never left the road.

"She was alone? Where the hell was the officer on scene, Jim?" he bellowed.

Inhaling to keep his calm, Brass answered, "There were officers inside and outside the residence. The officer assigned to the area couldn't have been more than 40 feet away-"

"And yet she was _attacked_-" he stopped as his voice broke, having to relive his greatest nightmare was taking its toll on his self control.

The next question still on his lips, Brass answered before it became necessary to ask.

"She was fully clothed as they loaded her onto the ambulance, Nick said," seeing Gil's shoulders relax just a bit.

"Nick said it seemed as if she were drugged, she was not responsive despite his efforts to talk to her," he added.

"You, uh, you didn't see her then?" Gil voiced softly, his eyes searching the passing scenery for answers as he tried to make sense of this attack.

Turning the corner to the hospital, the answer was forgotten as Brass pulled into the reserved ER parking and both men rushed inside.

gsrgsrgsrgsrgsr

Having administered the Narcan which the nurse hoped would bring help to her patient, Mary stood outside the cubicle waiting for a response to her page.

"Mary?" she heard as Dr. West moved towards her with only a slight rush to his long strides.

"Doctor, thanks for coming. Here," the nurse spoke as she was already moving towards the patient's bedside.

"Good lord," Ian West muttered as he moved a hand to soothe over Sara's head.

"I was right? It _is_ her?" Mary asked as Ian's eyes locked onto hers.

Mary worked in ER and Trauma for the past few years, and had been on Dr. West's service the night that Sara had been brought from the desert almost near death.

She had attended to Sara before and after her surgery and was head nurse on her case during her time in ICU.

As Sara had a lengthy hospital stay in a regular room without the need for specialized care, the nurse had not seen Sara after she recovered from her wounds.

Now as this patient presented without any ID, Mary was hesitant to believe it was the wounded CSI without confirmation from the trauma physician who attended her at the time.

A tear slipped unbidden from the nurse's eye but was abruptly brushed away as she moved into full working mode.

_How could something like this have happened to this poor woman again?_

"Mary," the doctor uttered softly, taking a minute to be a friend to this woman who he admired for her quick mind and selfless service.

The nurse met his eyes and gave him a quick nod to let him know she was fine before the two turned their total attention to their patient.

After adding another IV with saline to help flush her system, both doctor and nurse covered their patient fully with an opened sheet and helped remove some of Sara's clothing to allow the doctor a complete inspection of her body now wracked with small tremors as the drugs moved through her.

"Whatever they gave her is doing a number on her system," the doctor spoke worriedly to his colleague as she hooked Sara to the machines that would track her vitals.

"I'm not seeing any needle or puncture marks," Mary spoke as her fingers worked in tandem with the doctor's on the opposite side of Sara's thin frame.

"What the hell is going on here?" bellowed the incensed voice of the resident whose position in the doorway hid the presence of the attending trauma surgeon.

"Just doing what _you_ were _supposed_ to," Dr. West responded without effort to keeping the anger out of his voice.

They continued to work as he responded to the resident, and at that moment Mary's eyes followed the gloved fingers that brushed down the ribcage of her patient.

"Here," Mary spoke excitedly as she helped the doctor turn the body into this view.

Rubbing his own gloved finger lightly over the prick hole in Sara's side, nurse and doctor linked shocked glances as they shook their head in disbelief.

"Not deep enough for a taser barb," she muttered, but the attending was disagreeing.

"See this slight burned area _inside _the wound?" the doctor spoke as the all-but-forgotten resident moved closer with brows furrowed.

Leaning back over his patient, Ian's hand brushed softly over Sara's head as his own shook in disbelief.

"So…she _was_ tasered," Mary spoke, her glare towards the resident full of disgust towards the previous treatment of her patient.

"I've seen this type of wound when the barb had to pass through a barrier of some kind," the trauma surgeon spoke as he moved the sheet further down to uncover the rest of Sara's chest.

Fingering several stained areas of skin, the doctor pointed out these healed wounds as Mary just nodded.

"How did you know _they_ were there?" the resident asked incredulously, defiantly refusing to accept the evidence before him.

Mary took pleasure in answering the cocky resident.

"Because we've treated this patient before," her voice strong but with an anger that was unmistakable.

Now in full command of the situation, Dr. West turned to the young doctor who was beginning to understand his error.

"Take this patient to the Trauma Room _personally, _Dr. Scott. And don't leave her side until _you_ have _personally _run a full panel of diagnostics… complete with liver studies," he added as an afterthought.

"Liver stu-" the young man began to question, but Mary was already finished attaching the drips to the bed as Dr. West helped guide the bed to the door.

"This young woman suffered serious internal injuries a while back, and must guard against trauma to those organs," was all the response he gave before practically pushing the stunned resident out the door.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: Stayed up late to finish this chapter to post early Thursday…it is possible the next post will not be until Saturday, but I will try to post before…all mistakes are mine as I have no time to reread…thanks again for your reviews and support of this story…some surprising revelations in this chapter…hope it pleases…more soon as I can…take care…Kathy

Dr. West watched them until they disappeared beyond the swinging Trauma Room doors and leaned against the wall, his thoughts jumbled.

His reflection was only momentary as he heard a slight commotion behind him and exhaled sharply as he recognized that frenzied voice.

"You're going to stand there and tell me no LVPD officer was brought in here in the last hour?" Brass roared incredulously at the frightened young receptionist who had already buzzed for Security to come to her location.

As he turned the corner, Dr. West took in the sight of a spun-up Brass taking down the staff while next to him a dangerously quiet Grissom stood ready to take the staff apart within the next few moments.

"Detective," Ian called in greeting as his hand moved to hold off the security guards that were moving quickly towards their location.

"Gentlemen, this way, please," he spoke with authority as he turned down the hall, but not before slipping a gentle smile to the harried receptionist.

"What kind of place are you running here, doc," Brass asked with the emotion that the good doctor recognized as fear more than anger.

"Sara is here. I've sent her to Trauma. Mary's with her," Dr. West began, speaking directly to Grissom who just nodded as he fell back in his chair with something of relief in knowing the love of his life was alive and in competent hands.

"Why didn't the desk know she was here?" Brass, ever the detective, needed answers.

Leaning back to keep the discussion comfortable, Ian tapped his fingers on the table as he spoke.

"I'm not sure of the details. I was called in to consult on a drug overdose victim. Routine for the ER. Luckily Mary was with the resident assigned to the case. She was the one who recognized Sara, and she called me immediately."

"She was drugged."

Gil's voice evidenced the pain of the admission.

Nodding, Dr. West recalled the ordeal this man had gone through after Sara's rescue from the desert.

Leaning forward, he intended on keeping this man fully informed of the details usually kept from the family.

Past experience taught him that this man needed all the details available in order to deal with the situation at hand.

"Drugged and," he paused, making sure he would have Gil's undivided attention.

Grissom's eyes snapped to attention, pulling him from the fog of his swirling thoughts.

"And?" he asked impatiently.

Clearing his throat, the doctor continued, "Mary and I uncovered wounds that would …suggest…"

"She was tasered," Grissom spoke, then slammed his chair back forcefully as he paced the room failing to conceal his anger.

Neither man at the table spoke, consumed with their own thoughts, waiting for Gil to speak.

When he didn't, the good doctor looked at Brass and eyed the door as if to ask for some privacy to speak to Grissom.

Gil didn't notice that Jim was gone until the doctor spoke his name.

His eyes revealed his torment as his voice almost laughed his thoughts, "Just like last time."

"Gil," the doctor spoke softly, "I am sorry that this has happened to Sara. We have IV's running full to flush her system. We're running tox screens right now, we'll find out what they gave her."

Looking hopefully at the doctor, Gil asked, "Is she in any pain?"

The thought that Sara was suffering was more than he could bear at this moment.

Shaking his head, the doctor added, "Looks like she sustained no physical injuries except for the taser barb exit wound."

Grissom slumped into the chair and shook his head.

"Gil," the doctor pressed on, "are you sure the party responsible for the last time-"

"I'm sure…she, uh,…she committed-…she's dead," was the quiet response.

Leaning back thoughtfully, the doctor decided to dig for more information about his former, and now current, patient.

"When Sara recovers from this, I'm fairly confident she's going to need…professional help…to get past the trauma of being attacked in such a similar fashion."

Without moving his glance from the far wall, Grissom shrugged sadly.

"She tried…god, she tried last time," the entire episode of watching Sara go downhill until she finally left with only a letter as a goodbye was now haunting his person.

"She, uh," he spoke until his voice refused to come, and his hands covered his face momentarily to help him regain his composure.

"Take your time, Gil," the doctor spoke compassionately.

Sitting straighter, Grissom refused to relive the events that had broken him until he also fled for the place and events of the past and moved forward to find Sara and start a new life away from the site of her pain.

"She, uh, put herself in intensive counseling when she…while she was in San Franscisco. She told me the doctor had helped her deal with her PTSD. She told me she was better and was looking forward to starting our new life together."

Something in his tone spurred the doctor to ask, "And…you didn't believe her?"

A mirthless chuckle rose from his chest as Gil looked at his doctor before continuing.

"For a while, but then I would see something in her eyes…when she thought no one was looking…and finally I began to wonder if she was just doing what she had always done – lock the hurt away and deal with the promise of the new day before you.

One night, I couldn't sleep and rolled over to find her missing. You can imagine my pulse racing as I searched in and around our cabin-"

"You were camping?" the physician asked in confusion.

"We, uh, we were in Costa Rica…it's where I found her…where I ran to in order to get her back…after she…

She tried to get back into her old life, but Natalie destroyed that…it almost destroyed _her_."

The doctor allowed a long pause to help Gil compose himself. Finally he asked, "Did you find her?"

Looking confused at the question, Grissom shook his head before remembering where he left off in his explanation.

"Oh…that night…I found her sitting down by the waterfall near the camp…just sitting there with her knees pulled tight against her chest…she, uh, she only does that when she's really hurting…the moonlight reflected off the tears running down her face…"

Gulping soundly, he continued.

"That's when I knew…she wasn't better…she just didn't want me to worry about her, hover over her,,,"

His smile was self-deprecating.

"I tend to overdo it when it comes to her."

The doctor recalled the many face-offs he had with Grissom in the early days of Sara's previous hospital stays.

"You love her," Ian stated matter-of-factly causing Gil to snap to attention at his words.

"You love her…she is your world," the doctor added with a shrug as if to say that was the only explanation needed.

Leaning forward, the doctor smiled as he added, "I'm betting that no one else has ever loved her with the same intensity as you have, Gil. Never apologize for loving someone too much."

Gil found some comfort in his words, and the doctor pressed on.

"Does she know that you are aware of her deception?"

Shrugging his shoulders in response, Grissom looked up with watery eyes.

"I haven't spoken to her about it. Right after that night, she received an email from the lab here in Vegas and she decided to come back for a while…and I…we...decided that I would stay on and continue my work in the rainforest."

His experience in dealing with other people's coping mechanisms when faced with the trauma of a loved one's pain had given this physician some remarkable insights.

Seeing between the lines, the doctor said softly, "That must have cost you a lot, personally, to make that call to arrange all that for Sara."

Gil's head snapped up and his mouth opened slightly in surprise.

"Gil, she needed time and space to deal with what haunted her. You gave that to her once. Is it such a stretch to think you'd do it again?"

Silence was the answer.

"How does Sara seem to you now?"

Again, Gil struggled with the truth, just as he had been refusing to dwell on that question as it haunted him all those lonely nights far away from his wife.

With the answer still evading him, Grissom could only shrug and respond, "I'm not sure. Something is not right with her, but she hasn't taken to confiding in me…yet."

"That's why you're here now?"

Gil nodded in response, suddenly reminded of something.

"Ian, you have to promise me that nothing we've spoken of here will pass that door."

The urgency in his manner told Ian it was of great importance to this man.

"Please…Sara won't understand, she'll think I wanted her away from me, I promised never to lie to her-"

"I understand," the doctor interrupted and Gil could see in the look sent his way that it was a promise to be kept.

Again, a thought struck Grissom as he stood and moved to the doorway.

"I want a security detail on Sara until she's released. If my suspicions are correct, someone is playing a dangerous game with her and has just upped the stakes."

As the two men moved down the hallway, Gil spoke with decision, "I need to see Sara."

Hesitating only a moment, the doctor agreed.

Gil fell out of step with the doctor as they passed by the waiting room.

At the sight of the crowd standing near the windows, Grissom felt his anger explode.

He didn't hear the doctor's call as he flew towards the group and grabbed Ken by the collar before pinning him to the wall and yelling, "What the _hell_ are you doing anywhere near my wife?"

With difficulty, Nick pried Grissom away from the startled man.

"Griss, man, this is not helping."

Grissom fought against Nick's firm grip as his glare held Ken in place.

"This is not helping Sara!" Nick tried again, and those words seemed to diffuse some of Gil's anger.

"Why is he here?" demanded Grissom, and before anyone could speak Ken answered while straightening his shirt with angry tugs, "We were working together."

Grissom shook his head in disbelief. Who would put this man intentionally in Sara's path, knowing how he treated her?

This fact that Sara was attacked while Ken was on the scene seemed too bizarre to ignore.

This was one case in which Gil found himself drawing conclusions without collecting all the evidence.

All he knew was that his Sara had been attacked by someone using Natalie's M.O.

When his wife was finally recovered and safe at home, Gil promised not to rest until he uncovered a link between the dead psychotic killer and this bastard named Ken Fuller.


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: Thanks for understanding the delay…if you've ever experienced computer problems, you know they seem to occur when real life stresses you to the max…all mistakes are mine…already working on the next chapter, hopefully up tomorrow…your great reviews really feed the desire to write…take care…Kathy

Gil sat by Sara' s bedside in the private room on the third floor.

Brass had taken care of security for the duration of the hospital stay, and personally had appointed the officers who would vigilantly stand guard outside her door.

Looking upon her face, troubled lines and grimaces fading as the drugs cleared from her system, Gil was bombarded with flashbacks to those terrifying hours of searching for Sara in the desert.

Catherine's encouraging _"She's a survivor"_ now blurred with the horror of the emergency responder's _"Still no radial pulse"_, both blending into the memory of Sara barely keeping her composure outside the scene of the dual homicide _"It's just …wrong…"_.

Gil dropped his head which felt as heavy as his heart.

_I should have gone after her that day, held her close to me…but I never listened to my heart back then…instead I turned and followed the sound of that passing train…the case…it was always about me putting work first…but – I didn't really understand that back then…_

He glanced up at Sara with glistening eyes, wondering again if that day wasn't the turning point for her.

Grissom had wanted to give Sara the space every action indicated she needed.

In hindsight, he realized she felt he had turned a blind eye to her silent cries for help.

_That day… I couldn't make it better…so I just turned and left…_

Gil clenched her hand tightly as if afraid she might disappear even now.

_I should have stayed with her, gone with her back to the station, no, grabbed her and run far away from this place of pain…there was so much pain here for her…_

_Instead…I only succeeded in showing her how I refused to deal with her upset…_

Recalling the emptiness of standing at his desk and reading that letter she left – the one he could still to this day recite from memory - his eyes now flooded.

_I taught her how to run away…from me…_

The door slid open and Mary's smile faltered only slightly as she took in Gil's appearance.

Regaining her cheerful tone, her soft-soled shoes moved silently towards her patient.

Checking on her IVs and satisfied that Sara was resting comfortably, the nurse turned her attention to Gil.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked softly.

Squaring his shoulders, Gil inhaled deeply and gave her a small smile.

"How about a way to thank you, Mary."

In reply, her attention moved to the woman lying between them.

"I couldn't believe something like this could happen to her again," she spoke in quiet tones.

Instead of responding that he had been pondering that same question, Grissom slipped into work mode.

"We'll need her clothes to be sent to the lab," he answered, and Mary nodded before adding.

"Of course, and you should know we needed to…uh…cut the shirt from her in order to assess her injuries."

Nodding, Grissom added, "I'll send the shirt and vest back to the lab with Brass for processing."

His eyebrows raised as the look Mary gave him.

"Dr. Grissom, she wasn't wearing a vest when she came in."

Seeing the alarm in his features, she added, "The paramedics worked on her in the ambulance. She was brought in from the scene…it isn't like them to take the time to undress-"

But Gil already had his cell phone out and was paging Brass to Sara's room ASAP.

Knowing Mary was confused, Grissom tried for a smile and reassured her that they would unravel this mystery.

Taking the time to thank her again for taking care of Sara in the ER, Gil watched as Mary just nodded and offered to check in with him later.

Turning towards Sara, he again claimed her hand and held on tightly.

_What happened to you out there, honey?_

gsrgsrgsrgsrgsrgsr

Jim stretched painfully as he refused to surrender to the fatigue that threatened to overtake him.

Moving towards the waiting room, he was surprised to find Ken Fuller sitting alone in a corner talking quietly into a cell phone.

Without a goodbye, Ken clicked the device shut upon seeing Brass.

"Any news?" he asked – more curious than anxious - and Jim cocked his head as he often did when he was weighing some troubling evidence before him.

"No," was the answer he decided on, his training demanding a wait-and-see attitude towards this guy.

Nodding slightly, Ken's gaze shifted towards the door as two figures barged through in haste.

"Brass! How's Sara?" Greg breathed out, his breathlessness caused only partly from the rush to get there.

Tessa stood behind Greg and smiled slightly in acknowledging Brass, her smile widening as her eyes found Ken was now standing behind him.

"Ken! What are you doing here?" she asked in a friendly tone, much to Greg's irritation.

Not allowing time for him to answer, Greg forged ahead as he spoke to Brass pointedly.

"Can I see her?"

Brass was about to refuse, but knowing how Greg felt about Sara he thought perhaps Gil would agree to let him sit at her bedside long enough to get a hot coffee and stretch his legs.

At least it would be worth a try, as his friend hadn't moved from her side over the last six hours.

And it would give Jim a chance to explain the delay in responding to his page.

Turning towards Tessa, Jim said, "Maybe Greg could go for just a minute."

Squeezing the upper arm of his jacket, Tessa beamed at Greg and said," I'll be right here when you're done."

Greg nodded, his smile fading as his warning gaze was directed at Fuller who was once again seated comfortable on the corner chair.

Brass began to fill in the sketchy details of Sara's move from the Trauma Center to her current room assignment as the duo moved towards the elevators.

Once outside Sara's room, Jim nodded to the officer before pushing open the door.

Gil seemed lost in thought and startled a bit as he realized someone had entered.

"Any change?" Brass asked softly, but Grissom's answer was lost as he observed Greg moving closer to the bed.

Over the years, Gil had seen the lab tech mature into a valuable member of the team.

He had always known Greg loved Sara deeply on many levels; he loved her enough to encourage her clandestine relationship with Gil those many years ago because _he wanted her to be happy._

Gil recognized the look that bared the lovestruck heart of this fine young man – because it was the same look Gil himself had donned for years whenever he allowed himself to lower the walls that had set around heart.

"Her vitals are good…no physical injuries noted aside from the site where the taser barb penetrated…"

"Good, good," Jim answered, yet both men kept their gaze on Greg as his silence spoke volumes as to the pain of seeing his friend in this condition.

"How about letting Greg sit with Sara for a while we get a coffee? Ten minutes, Gil," Brass began what he was sure would be a long campaign to extract his friend from his vigil.

He was shocked when Grissom hesitated only a moment before standing and directing his speech to Greg.

"She even _blinks_ and you _call_ me. Doctors said it would be a few more hours, Greg. Don't get your hopes up," Gil added as he moved closer to Sara.

"I'll be back soon, honey. Greg will be right here with you. You're not alone, okay? I love you, Sara," he whispered before leaving a feather-light kiss on her forehead.

Greg happily moved towards the abandoned chair, moving it even closer to Sara's bedside.

Grissom took one last long look at Sara before turning with determination and flinging open the door with Jim right on his heels.

If he had to leave Sara for a moment, he wanted to make good use of the time and bring Brass up to speed on the curious developments involving Sara's missing vest.

gsrgsrgsrgsrgsrgsrgsr

Two hours later, the brilliant sunshine made Greg squint as he drove Gil's car capably into its usual spot in the driveway.

Having left his own car at the lab, Tessa had driven them to the hospital directly after shift ended.

Now, having followed her safely home as he drove in Grissom's car, Greg inserted the large key and unlocked the front door to the Grissoms' home.

Armed with a mental list of things Gil and Sara would need for a short hospital stay, Greg moved confidently towards the stairs leading to their bedroom.

His steps slowed as the house phone rang, and Greg waited to see if perhaps Grissom decided to check up on him or needed something he forgot to mention.

Imagine the CSI's surprise to hear a familiar voice after the beep.

"Hey, Sarabelle?... It's Philip. ..Where _are_ you darlin'?... I can't seem to find _anyone_ who knows where you are… I'm kinda gettin' worried here, Sar…"

Understanding the pain of feeling out of touch with what's happening with Sara lately and knowing the depth of feeling Sara had shown towards this old friend, Greg made a quick decision.

Plucking the receiver from its cradle, he took a deep breath and answered, "Philip! It's Greg, Greg Sanders…"

Having replaced the phone onto the counter after he had paced with it in hand while relating what had been happening, Greg now moved towards the bedroom.

All the while chastising himself for perhaps committing an error in giving out so much information to Sara's old friend.

The man had been beside himself at learning of his friend's attack.

Upon Greg's mention of "another old classmate" of Sara's appearing in town, however, the conversation had taken on a curious turn.

Philip was demanding details that Greg was neither party to nor comfortable in sharing.

It was also disturbing the way the affable psychologist had turned into a ranting maniac, accusing Greg of keeping things from him and threatening to expose his 'coverup'.

It was only after Greg gave Philip his personal cell number and swore to inform Sara of his calls the minute she awoke that he finally felt confident enough to express his need to return to the hospital and thus end the call.

Shaking his head as he wondered how to explain to Grissom about the phone call, Greg moved to the closet to retrieve Sara's overnight bag when his movements were stilled by the ringing of the doorbell.

Muttering something about this place being like Grand Central Station, Greg dropped the opened bag on the bed and moved down the stairs towards the still ringing door chime.

Surprise splashed upon the faces on either side of the doorstep, before Greg recovered enough to speak.

"La-..uh…Doctor…Heather…"


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: Real life continues to cut into my writing time…this chapter is short, but I am promising to post again tonight…no time to reread, all mistakes are mine…take care…Kathy

Greg's stance blocked the entryway into the Grissom household.

His stuttered greeting was all he was capable of as his mind tried to make sense of the fact that _Lady Heather_ was standing on the doorway of _Sara_'s home.

"Mr. Sanders," Heather responded in a terse manner.

"Wha-what are _you_ doing _here_?" the CSI asked, still trying to find some logic to this confrontation.

"I'm here to see Gil," she answered smoothly and with a tone full of dismissal.

"You're here to see Grissom," was all Greg could say.

"We have some unfinished business," Heather spoke with a twang of innuendo.

"You and Grissom…have business," Greg's mind was on hyperdrive, his speech hampered by the confusion of this reality.

"We are old friends, Mr. Sanders. Gil will want to see me," she spoke with almost hypnotic command.

"Grissom wou-…_you've_ come here _before_?" Greg responded with the hope that he was misreading the facts before him.

"Tell. Gil. I. Am. Here." she spoke plainly but with an edge of command that exposed her irritation with this conversation.

"I-I can't do that," Greg answered without blinking, unable to move his stare from those dark pools that mesmerized him at first with their beauty but now with their intensity.

"You…can't…" Heather's usual unflappable manner was crumpling against this unusual deferment of her wishes.

"He, uh, he isn't here," Greg tried to sound in control, but his voice squeaked a bit with the mounting anxiety that Grissom had continued to see Heather behind Sara's back.

Heather now moved forward as if to enter the house, but found herself slamming against Greg's chest as he moved onto the front porch and pulled the door closed behind him.

Most people would have retreated backward to maintain their distance, but Heather remained firmly planted in Greg's personal space.

"His car is in the driveway," she challenged.

"I drove his car here," he replied.

"Gil doesn't let anyone drive his car, except for _Sara_," came the retort, and Greg noted a bit of hostility lingering over her use of his friend's name.

"Well, he let _me_ drive it today," volleyed his response.

"What were you doing inside Gil's house?" questioned the suspicious brunette.

"What are _you_ doing hanging around _Sara_'s house?" queried the man who made it quite obvious as to where his allegiances lie.

"I came to see Gil," was a statement from a woman so exasperated by Greg's composure that she found herself unwittingly adding, "I needed to be sure he was alright."

Greg had learned a great deal over the years from Sara's laid-back interrogation techniques.

She had always reminded him to listen to everything the suspect was saying, in their speech as well as their body language.

After that admission, he took a professional view of the evidence before him.

It was obvious that Heather's irritation was growing, but for the first time Greg saw a trace of urgency in her tone and a slight restlessness in her hand movements.

"And…why _wouldn't_ he be alright?" he challenged.

"This is pointless," she huffed as her true nature was revealing itself, "where is Gil?"

"He's…with Sara," Greg answered in the vague truthfulness that Sara had ingrained in him as they interrogated suspects.

He noticed her slight reaction to that news as she pressed on, "He was supposed to meet with me this afternoon."

Greg exhaled loudly as he attempted to keep his anger checked, "Well…doesn't look like that's going to happen."

For the first time, Heather's glare turned to back away from their confrontation.

Another emotion replaced her anger, but Greg was unsure as to how to read it.

"It's important that I speak with him, but Gil isn't answering his phone," Heather spoke, and for the first time her voice held none of the commanding tone in this bizarre encounter.

Sara had often counseled him to 'go with his gut' when interacting with suspects, and once again Greg followed Sara's good advice.

"You know why," he responded softly, and for the first time he could see concern in Heather's demeanor.

"Why are you here, Heather?" Greg pushed, and was shocked in receiving a reply.

"I was checking to see if he needed anything, if I could help-"

"Help with what? You knew Sara was in the hospital, didn't you? "

When he received no response, his anger thought for him.

"What? Did you expect to come here to offer some "comfort"?"

"As I said, we had some business-"

"Did you really think Grissom would give a rat's ass about "business" or about anything to do with _you_ when the woman he _married_ was injured and lying in hospital bed?"

Not allowing Heather time to respond, he was raking his hand through the side of his hair attempting to reconcile this unbelievably tacky advance on Grissom at this worst possible time.

"Are you so deluded that you didn't expect that he would be glued to _his wife's_ bedside?"

Regaining her self-possessed aura, Heather's mouth morphed into a cynical smirk.

"Apparently, _you_ are the one who is deluding himself over such matters," she replied with an annoying certainty.

Taken aback by the very idea behind that statement, Greg responded, "Well, if he wasn't there, where _would_ he be?"

"Where indeed, ?"

And with that, Greg decided to end this conversation.

However, as always, Heather insisted on the last word.

"Tell Gil I was here…and to call me _anytime_."

With that, Heather turned and strutted away with Greg's eyes locked on her even as her car disappeared around the corner.

As fate would have it, his cell phone signaled an incoming message at that very moment.

Clicking his phone opened, he let out a mirthless chuckle at Grissom's impatient message.

_What's happening? Is everything alright at our home?_

Greg stood for a moment looking out to the area he'd last seen Heather.

"I was just wondering the same thing, Grissom…" he thought as he turned the knob and reentered the house.


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: The action is moving forward …your reviews have been amazing and as usual make the writing a pleasure….this one's a bit longer to make up for the shorter one today…hoping to post again tomorrow depending on the strong storms they are forecasting…thanks again for the reader support of this story…all mistakes are mine…take care…Kathy….

Gil Grissom walked through the hallways towards Sara's room carrying his parcel carefully.

It had been two days since her admittance and, with the drugs finally filtered out of her system, she was characteristically annoyed that Dr. West insisted on 'just a few more days'.

Insisting on not repeating the mistakes of his past, Gil had eased up his more obvious hovering and was allowing Sara more say in the hours he kept at her bedside.

While he adamantly refused to leave her alone during the night ( she secretly was relieved to have him nearby to help ward off the night terrors), Grissom did allow Greg and Brass to take turns sitting with her for an hour or two while he went home to shower and change before heading back to her hospital room.

Finding himself alone in the an elevator with Ian on this sunny afternoon, the doctor praised him for his efforts to making himself available to Sara while allowing her some time to transition into her everyday routine.

Before the doors opened on their floor, the doctor placed his hand on Gil's forearm.

"I, um, will be stopping by to see Sara later. There's something that I'd like to discuss with her, and I feel it would be best if you were present."

Gil's heart race increased even as the doctor assured him that there was nothing 'serious, but definitely something he wanted to discuss with them'.

Nodding in agreement, Grissom began chastising himself for leaving the hospital, as his mind looked for "obvious signs" by the trauma surgeon's remarks that something indeed had to be seriously wrong with Sara.

His feet moved at a faster pace then halted abruptly as he noticed the empty chair that should have held the guard to Sara's room.

Almost dropping the small bag he was carrying, his mind was racing with the possible scenarios.

Nearing the door, he heard an obvious distressed Sara almost shouting, "No! Get that _away_ from me!"

"Sara!" Gil shouted as he pushed the door open with such force as to almost knock over Greg who had been making his way out of the room at that exact moment.

Surveying the scene, nothing was making sense to Grissom's analytic sweep of the room.

Sara sat propped up on her bed, her arms firmly folded over chest, with a look that would make lesser men retreat.

But Dr. Scott felt himself perfectly capable of handling this difficult patient who had made his ER rotation hell from the moment she was admitted.

Had Gil arrived one minute earlier, he would have heard their earlier exchange:

"_Either relax and let me finish this blood work, or I'll have you restrained, _Ms. Sidle_," the resident intoned with his impatience showing._

"_It's _Mrs. Grissom_, and I told you no more tests…I'm not a pincushion!"_

The refusal of this patient to yield to his demands angered the doctor who was not going to allow this lanky snip of a woman to cause any additional ill will with Dr. West who had ordered him to continue with the lab workup.

"Enough of this," Dr. Scott muttered with annoyance as he grasped her arm and jerked it flat onto her blanket as he pulled out a patient restraint in a practiced move.

His movements were halted, however, by the commotion at the door and the blur of motion which seemed to have a voice of its own.

"_Get your hands off of her!"_

Before he even had time to react, Dr. Scott found himself thrown across the short distance to the windows as his back was unceremoniously crunched against the half-opened mini-blinds.

"You _don't_ restrain my wife. _Ever_! You _got_ that?" Gil was shouting as he mentally calculated in what position this jerk's body would land if he was pushed from this third floor window.

Strong arms tugged at him as Brass' voice overpowered the situation, "Gil! Calm down! Let me handle this…Gil!"

Grissom continued to hold this terrified resident in a death grip as Brass continued his efforts.

In a calmer tone, he spoke again.

"Gil…take care of Sara…_Gil_…Sara needs you…"

And in a breath, the drama was over as Grissom released the doctor with a glare and pivoted to find Sara staring at him as her lower lip quivered despite her desire to put on a brave face.

Oblivious to the three men in the room, Gil quickly covered the distance that separated him from Sara and sat down only to twist and pull his legs onto her bed before pulling her tightly to his prone form.

If Sara was shocked at her husband's uncharacteristically bold move, she didn't show it as she pressed herself so tightly to him as if she wanted to disappear inside him.

"I want to go _home_, Gil…please…" her voice the only sound she made although he could feel her tears soaking the front of his shirt.

"Shhh…it's okay, honey…everything's okay, Sara…" he cooed into her ear as she continued to hide her face against his shoulder.

Grissom made eye contact at Greg who had been acting a bit strangely today, and Gil lifted his chin to ask him for some privacy right now.

Greg opened the door as Brass proceeded to calm the hot-headed doctor as he led him through the opened door where the officer was now sitting.

Sensing her calming somewhat, Gil increased his hold on Sara as he murmured 'I love you's as he stroked her back soothingly.

"Gil…you can't…" she'd started, and his brows crunched as he tried to figure out what she was trying to say.

"I can do whatever you need, honey…I love you…everything's okay…" he tried to reassure her.

Sara rolled onto her back to stare into his eyes.

"What do you need, dear?" Gil asked tenderly as his free hand dried the tears that remained on her cheeks.

"Don't leave me."

The statement caused more confusion as he wondered if she was recalling the events at the restaurant, or if was talking about her hospital stay.

Reassuringly, he smiled and said, "I love you, Sara. I will never leave you. And if you don't want to be alone here, I'll just ask Greg to bring another change of clothes for me. Okay?"

Her smile made his day, and his chest puffed up slightly that, for all her protests, his Sara really did receive some comfort from the way he hovered over her.

They lay quietly for a while before Gil remembered the package he had tossed onto the chair when he first entered the room.

"Sara? Did you eat today?" he asked, and again his chest puffed up slightly when she groaned and simply shook her head.

"Well, we can't have _that_," he smiled as he hugged her and made his way from their bed to the chair.

Dragging her patient table over to the bed, he produced his prize with a flourish and the action caused Sara to giggle – a sound that made his heart swell with love.

"Could I interest madam in a bowl of Francoise's famous-"

"Tomato Basil Bisque!" Sara interrupted with a small squeal.

"Only the best for you, Mrs. Grissom," he smiled as he handed her the soup spoon and two packages of the homemade oyster crackers that were her secret indulgence whenever they dined there.

As he watched her eat with obvious delight, his thoughts wandered to the events of the morning, and his anger started to surface again.

As if on cue, Brass entered the room and smiled at the sight of a happy Sara enjoying her meal.

"I must say, Gil, you sure know how to put on a great floor show. This whole place is buzzing."

Afraid the conversation might upset Sara, Grissom glared at Jim.

His head turned swiftly as Sara added between sips from her spoon, "Bet most of them want to pin a medal on you for taking down that pompous ass."

Her gaze locked with Jim's and both enjoyed a silent communication that brought comfort to both.

Gil, however, was far from appeased.

"What the hell happened, Jim? Where was the guard? I thought you were-"

Jim's hand shot up, "Whoa, cowboy. The situation was covered. Samuels stepped out for a moment so I was right up the hall outside the nurses' station in full view of the room at all times."

Smiling at Sara again, he winked, "I'd never let my best girl down."

The two men grinned as they heard a very unladylike _slurp_ followed by an _ahhh_ before Sara set her very empty bowl onto the table.

"Mr. Grissom…you really know the way to your wife's heart, you know?" she said, and Gil found himself hopelessly lost in the Sidle Smile she reserved just for him.

"Well, I've lived on this earth long enough to know that three is definitely a crowd, so I'll just be going…take care, doll…" Brass said to Sara as he moved towards the door.

Gil watched as it closed before jumping out of his chair to pounce on his giggling wife.

With a quick kiss before he scooted her over to make room for him as he leaned back on the pillow, he stroked her hair as she settled down against him.

After a few moments, Sara spoke again. "I meant it, you know."

"Hmm?" he quizzed distractedly as he was concentrating on not revealing his body's response to having her so near.

"When I said you know the way to my heart."

He pressed his lips to her hair, but hoped she would continue to speak. While he was away, he had missed hearing her talk about the everyday nothings.

Yet his heart lurched when she began to speak again.

"I know…uh, that you've been worried…about me…"

His silence was punctuated by an increased pressure as he held onto her still form.

"The night I was…attacked..." she turned her head to look directly into his eyes.

"Gil…I'm not crazy."

His face registered the shock of her pleading with him to believe her, and then he leaned forward to kiss her soundly before hugging her tightly to his chest.

"I will _never _think that of you, Sara…_never_!" he spoke quietly but forcefully as he felt her relax in his arms.

"Gil…it was Natalie."

She felt his body tense before he consciously made himself relax while she continued.

"Everything…was just like _that night_…" Sara paused to breathe deeply and relax as her counselor had urged during their most tumultuous early sessions.

"I heard her voice calling my name, and …before I could turn-" her voice squeaked and she stopped to compose herself, grateful for Gil's silence.

"She pushed me down and shoved this…something, I don't know, a bottle maybe?...it was filled with that same vile tasting liquid she squirted on my face and into my mouth after I was recaptured and lying in her backseat…"

Gil allowed the silence until he was sure she was finished.

"Sara…Natalie is dead. The prison records show it. I had them double checked myself," he said, hoping to reassure her.

"You don't believe me," the small voice echoed loudly in the quiet.

Pulling himself upright, he caught her by the upper arms to put them face-to-face.

"Don't ever say that! I'm trying to tell you that someone is trying hard to make _you_ believe Natalie is still alive!"

Before he could continue, his hands moved and for the first time he noticed Sara wince when his fingers curled over the short sleeves of her hospital gown.

Immediately he released his grip only to pull her arm forward to inspect the handprint-shaped bruising on both upper arms.

Inhaling angrily, Gil demanded, "How did this happen? Who did this to you, Sara?"

Not wanting to inflame his temper further Sara started to shrink away, but Grissom was not to be deterred.

"Did that doctor hurt you like this? Is this why you didn't want him to touch you?"

Sara could see that Gil was getting himself riled up and, although she would appreciate him flattening that irritating resident with one well-placed uppercut, she knew he deserved the correct answer.

Even if it would stoke the flames of his protective agitation.

"I'm fine," she began, but he was glaring at her again so quickly added, "these are just healing bruises from the lab," she said refusing now to meet his eyes.

"Sara," he started to yell, but closed his eyes and tried for a calmer tone, "honey, these are clearly handprints. Who hurt you like this?"

Thinking of her response, and running various memories through his mind, Gil's eyes opened wider as he barked, "Did Fuller hurt you like this in the hallway?"

Her only response was to lean into him with enough pressure to cause him to recline to their original position.

After giving him a moment to collect himself, she turned to look at him with such love that he could only inhale deeply and keep his gaze locked on those big brown eyes.

"I love you, Gil Grissom." After a pause, "In my whole life, _no one_ has ever worried over me the way you do. I don't deserve you…" her voice petered out as she broke their eyelock.

There were so many things she had kept from him over these last few years.

But finally, it seemed like it was the right time to tell him the truth about her decision to pull out of therapy.

And about her recurring nightmares.

And about the flowers at the lab.

And the missing note.

And the incident in the garage.

And her increasing dependency on alcohol to cope with the stress.

And about Philip.

Yet the perfect opening was slipping away as Gil reacted to her last statement with a punishing kiss that made speech impossible.

A few moments later, he pulled away to gaze into her eyes lovingly.

"I love you, Sara. But so help me, I never want you to _ever_ tell me that you're not deserving! You didn't get any prize when you married me, I remind myself of that every day.

You deserve so much better - the world on a silver platter! And so help me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you understand that simple fact."

His honesty shone brilliantly through those crystal blue eyes and, for the first time in a long while, Sara could almost believe what he was saying.

"Gil –" she started, but was interrupted by a knock at the door.

A nursing aide entered carrying an enormous flower arrangement in a large beaded vase.

Grissom was interested, but Sara was frozen in place as she stared at the arrangement.

"Fire polished prismatic beads…they're beautiful, honey," Gil spoke, oblivious to Sara's turmoil.

"Yes, you are a lucky lady to have such an admirer," the aide spoke as she pulled the red envelope from the front of the blooms.

"Who are they from, honey?" he asked absently as he nodded his thanks to the departing woman.

Sara's hands shook as she held the envelope, as for the first time Gil noticed her distress.

Grabbing the envelope, he pulled her tightly to him and wondered if she were having a flashback, or if there was some perceived current danger to this card.

Encouraged by his soft rocking motion, Sara began to relate the events of the last delivery of such a bouquet.

Remaining silent until she was finished, Gil was already mentally running _what if_ scenarios and _to do_ lists.

Knowing that any prints would be compromised by their handling of the envelope, he asked, "Do you want _me_ to open it, honey?"

He wondered if the shaking motion was consciously made or just a by-product of her trembling frame, but he adjusted her to remain safely in his arms as his freed hands moved to pull the card from its envelope.

Inhaling deeply, he turned the card over as they both silently read the sentiment.

_In the cold moist earth _we laid her_, when the forests cast the leaf,  
>And we wept that one <em>so lovely_ should have a life so brief._

"William Cullen Bryant," Grissom muttered, although his mouth was dry with implications of this selection.

"The Death of the Flowers," Sara bolted upright in recognition of the piece from her college studies.

In light of what Sara had revealed about the first flower delivery to the lab, Gil was now more certain than ever that his wife was in real danger.

Her next statement was an important first step forward in her recovery.

"Gil," she began and squeezed his hand until their gazes locked, "thank you…for believing me."

"Honey," he replied and kissed her forehead, "please…you can always tell me anything…I will believe you…because I believe _in_ you."

Her smile made him inwardly cheer for saying the right thing at the right time.

Pulling her to him again, his training brought his thoughts around to how best to begin the investigation into these threats against Sara.

"We'll need to talk to the florist and see if there's any lead about who's sending these flowers," he began but, as with all things surrounding these incidents, Grissom was interrupted by yet another puzzle as the door swung open at that moment.

"Hey, Sara!…oh, I see you got my flowers!"


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: Real life conspires against me…leaving out the gory details, suffice it to say that this chapter has been burning a hole in my mind trying to get out…thanks for hanging in there with your terrific patience…I _plan_ to update tomorrow as I am called out of town unexpectedly this weekend…hope you'll stay tuned…this update has a few more clues related to the current nightmare Sara is suffering…angst warning ahead, Kay Isles!...everyone's reviews have been insightful and encouraging, thanks so much to everyone who reads and/or reviews…all mistakes are mine…more soon as I can...take care…Kathy…

Before either Gil or Sara had time to react, a familiar voice joined that of the visitor.

"Surprise!" Greg intoned with a forced lightheartedness that was readily apparent only to Sara.

"Philip…" Sara nearly whispered which caused Gil's head to snap between glaring at her and the intruder who was coming nearer to them.

Before anyone could speak another word, Gil was already off the bed and moving towards this man whose rugged good looks were not fully captured in the photos that had been emailed to him.

Yet as Philip's eyes were focused solely on the brunette in hospital garb, he managed to sidestep Gil's advances without thought as he rounded the opposite side of her bed and swept up Sara in his arms.

"Sarabelle…thank god you're alright…"

He pulled away slightly to wipe the tears from Sara's cheeks, asking hurriedly, "You _are _alright, aren't you?"

"Philip-"

"Would _somebody_ mind explaining what the _hell _is going on here?" Gil intoned loudly enough to make Greg cringe.

When Philip had called Greg from McCarran, the young investigator knew this was going to be a long day.

On the way to the hospital, he had chastised Philip for making the trip while explaining that Gil was there to take care of Sara and really there was no need…

But once he realized that the psychologist was not listening, Greg abandoned his efforts.

As they made their way from the hospital parking garage, he had argued that perhaps they could call to arrange a time to visit.

Seeing the elevator doors closing with a determined Philip inside made Greg see the futility of that suggestion.

Now as he observed Sara wrapped up in the arms of this friend, and Grissom about ready to stroke out in front of him, Greg found himself wishing to be a fly on the wall.

At least that would be the one living thing in this room that he could guarantee would be safe from the possibility of this entomologist's deadly glare turning physical.

"Gil…uh, this is Philip…we, uh, were good friends…at Harvard," Sara tensed as she wished there was more time to explain their relationship with more of the details she knew her husband required to get the complete picture.

"Apparently so," her husband answered in that slightly hushed tone that belied his anger.

Sara was getting upset with Philip who refused to release her from the protection of his arms.

"So…_you_'_re_ the husband," the sandy brown-haired intruder spoke in an almost mocking tone.

"Apparently so," Gil responded with a glare first at Sara which then intensified as his gaze bored into Philip.

Turning to ignore the remark, Philip looked down at the bruising on her upper arms and asked anxiously, "My lord, Sarabelle, who did this to you?"

Before she could respond, he added in a rush as he flung his accusation towards Grissom, "Does this have anything to do with what happened at the parking garage?"

Gil's patience was at an end as he inhaled slowly and donned his supervisor's mask, an action that caused Sara's heart to sink into her stomach.

Grissom fixed his gaze on her with a look reminiscent of the night she had traveled from Parump and arrived late in response to his page only to be sent out "solo".

Cocking his head to the side in mock curiosity, his rich baritone intoned innocently, "Well…I really don't know…"

Moving forward to the foot of Sara's bed, Gil leaned forward with his hands flat on the mattress and spoke in a dangerously quiet tone , "_Does_ this have anything to do with _whatever the hell happened_ in the parking garage, Sara?"

She blinked as her breath caught, but his gaze held hers prisoner.

The proverbial _jig _was _up_.

And her husband was past the "angry" stage.

She had never seen him so furious, although she knew that deep down his anger was borne over his need to protect her, and she half expected him to fly off in an uncharacteristic tirade.

And she wouldn't even be able to blame him.

Because _she_ was responsible for all this heartbreak.

By closing herself off and trying to deal with the mess of her life without accepting help, she had created this chasm between herself and this man she had wanted to protect.

As the fates would have it, the door opened and Greg was jarred again as he had been when Grissom had rushed in earlier.

He swore he needed to find a different space to occupy that was far from that offending object.

Taking in the scene and noting the tension in the room, Dr. West smiled and asked, "Bad time to chat, Sara?"

Noting Gil moving away from the foot of her bed but not releasing her gaze, he was surprised by the unsettled tone in the entomologist's response.

"Not at all. I'm sure Sara has lots she'd like to chat about."

With that, he excused himself and left the room with as much dignity as could be expected by someone who yanked the door closed loudly behind him.

"Well, guess that's my cue," Greg spoke up, nodding his head towards the hallway as if to tell Sara he would go and check on his old boss.

That left Philip who had released Sara when he realized how upset Gil was becoming but had not moved from her side.

"Perhaps you could excuse us for a moment," the doctor began, but in realizing the tremors that Sara was trying her best to hide from him Philip looked at Sara.

"We have no secrets," he said softly, and watched as Sara smiled at him.

"I'm really fine, Philip…just give us a few minutes, okay?" she asked trying for a reassuring look.

He looked at her for a long moment before seeming to resolve an internal debate.

"I'll…uh…just go and see if I can find Gil, alright?" and his heart beat faster as she favored him with a smile.

Alone with Ian, the doctor checked her vitals and frowned slightly as he recorded her blood pressure.

"Try to relax, Sara…" he spoke soothingly as he shut off the bedside light and moved to close the mini-blinds.

The doctor had just moved back to the bed and picked up her chart when the door to the room moved open slowly only to find Gil racing to Sara's side.

"What is it? What's happened? Sara? Is she alright?" Grissom's head moved frantically between the two people before him.

Dr. West was never one to beat around the bush.

"Sara's suffering from an acute hypertensive episode," he stated simply but not without an accusation in his tone.

She was lying on her side as the doctor had placed her, and Sara was glad not to have to look at the hurt she was sure she'd see in her husband's eyes.

"What are you doing for her?" Gil rushed as his eyes surveyed his wife for signs of medical intervention.

"She's resting, in a quiet, dark, _calm_ environment," the doctor responded, his meaning clear.

Without hesitation, Gil kicked off his shoes and moved to lay spooned behind Sara.

"Just relax, honey…don't think about anything…" he spoke softly as he began to rub his hand softly over the arm that faced him.

"Gil's right, Sara…you need to relax," Ian encouraged, and noted that some of the tension seemed to be easing from her body.

"Don't think about anything…not about the hospital…not about the flowers…not about the ass of a man you married," he spoke in the same soothing tones as his words flowed whenever his fingers moved downwards on her arm in his attempts to apologize for his jealous outburst.

"Gil," she started, but he shushed her with a kiss to her temple.

"Just rest, honey, please," Grissom continued to gently rub over her arm in much the same way he soothed her after a violent nightmare.

"I love you, Sara…I love you, honey…everything's alright, Sara…no worries," he whispered in her ear.

The doctor observed the ease in her body movements, and after ten full minutes nearly had awakened her as she was drifting off to sleep.

Taking her arm and repeating the test, the doctor smiled and announced her pressure was better, but that she needed to continue to rest.

Grissom sat up from his position and moved against the headboard, drawing Sara with him until she was settled on the pillows next to him.

Ian brought a chair closer to the couple, and dove straight into his reason for the meeting.

Gil seemed shocked, but Sara remained absolutely still as the doctor began to discuss the results of the tests that were run, and repeated, since her admittance.

"The liver studies were of concern to me, Sara," he spoke plainly.

"If I recall, we had discussed the damage to your kidney and liver before your release after your last ordeal," Ian spoke evenly but the couple understood the urgency in his tone.

"There seems to be some damage, Sara…your levels show signs of early stage cirrhosis," he continued, believing that patients deserved plain talk about their conditions.

"You have to be honest with me, Sara…our next treatment steps will be dictated by your answers," Ian said as she nodded in response.

For the first time, he hesitated but moved ahead.

"Your levels denote either failure of some liver function, or…" he paused.

"Or overindulging-" Gil added clinically as if talking with Doc Robbins over a body.

He spoke only to be cut off by Sara's quiet, "Or alcohol abuse."

Dr. West focused on Sara's response.

Glancing at his chart, he nodded and added, "These numbers suggest more than just binge drinking, Sara."

With no response forthcoming, Gil whipped his head towards his wife and asked almost in disbelief, "Sara?"

But she was already reeling from the thought of Grissom distancing himself when he realized that today was yet another testament to her belief that he did not deserve to be saddled with someone with her baggage.

Ignoring his overtures, Sara focused on the doctor.

"There is a predilection for alcoholism on both sides of my family tree," she answered honestly and seemingly without emotion.

"And the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," she finished calmly.

Leaning back in his chair, the doctor thought a moment and then leaned forward to take Sara's hand.

"Little lady, if I've ever met someone who had the right to get blindsided drunk, it's you," he spoke honestly.

Continuing he looked into her eyes, "But if you don't stop, and I mean completely, Sara," he inhaled, "you'll be finishing the job that Natalie intended to do."

His words met with stunned silence as Gil gasped and reached out to Sara who had not broken the doctor's glare.

"Okay," was her only response as she settled into the warmth of Grissom's unexpected embrace.

Leaving further discussion on the topic for a later date, Ian inhaled and switched focus.

"Your chart lists your age at –" the doctor reviewed the paperwork, "38. Right?" he looked up at her nod.

"Any plans for adding to your family before your baby-window closes?" Dr. West smiled amiably.

"Sara decided a long time ago not to have children," Gil answered definitively, his eyes moving over his wife and causing him to miss the slight confusion in the doctor's brow.

Sara's eyes remained fixed and focused on the doctor instead.

Without further response from his patient, Dr. West decided to end this discussion.

Taking her readings once more, Ian was satisfied that Sara was calm enough to keep her blood pressure in a reasonable range.

Looking at Sara to be sure his message was clear, "I'll find time for another exam tomorrow, okay?"

A slight dread fell over her as she gave him her best imitation of a smile.

"Thanks, doc…for everything," and Ian knew that meant dropping the subject of childbearing…for now.

As the doctor was leaving, he turned suddenly and said, "Oh, Gil…sorry I forgot…there is someone in the waiting room wanting to speak to you…I told her it would be some time, but she said she'd wait as long as it took."

Gil's forehead crunched as he looked at Sara.

"Probably Catherine…she said she'd be stopping by sometime today."

"Go ahead, Gil. I need to rest anyway," she responded with as much enthusiasm and sincerity as she could muster.

In truth, she needed time to figure out a way to get her life, and her marriage, back on track.

Mere minutes went by before Philip popped his head in the doorway with the guard behind him casting a questioning gaze at Sara.

"It's okay, Pete," she said with a tired tone, and Philip moved into the empty chair and claimed her hand.

Moving a stray hair behind her head, he asked, "Sara, you look like your whole world is coming down around you."

A tear that had threatened now made its way down her cheek as she inhaled shakily then said ina voice that trembled slightly as she quipped, "Philip…a psychologist who makes house calls? Really?"

With no response to her ribbing, Sara decided to be straight with this friend who was so obviously worried about her.

She closed her eyes against the thoughts that brought such pain as she said, "He's going to find out."

"What, Sarabelle? What is Gil going to find out?" he asked softly.

She had to struggle to get the sound out before she nearly gasped, "The baby."

Philip sat back shaking his head in apparent disbelief.

"How can he know, Sara? And why would he care? That's another lifetime ago, sweetheart."

But Sara wouldn't be deterred.

"Gil is going to know…I've kept it a secret all these years…he's going to know…and he'll hate me-"

"Stop it, Sara!" Philip spoke heatedly, "He won't know unless _you _tell him! Lord, you were just a kid yourself, Sara!

How can he blame you because you were young and needy and looking for someone to love you? Hell, when I found out what that bastard-…how he'd-"

"You can't blame him, Philip-"

"STOP DEFENDING HIM!" he cried and stood up with such anger that the chair toppled over causing such a ruckus that the guard threw open the door with his hand on his revolver.

"I'm fine, Pete…sorry for the outburst…seems like I've been doing that to everyone today," she grimaced, and the officer threw her a sympathetic gaze before turning angry eyes at the other man in the room.

"It's okay, really, Pete," she said softly, and the officer's reminder that he was 'just outside' was not fully intended for her.

Raking his hands through his hair roughly, Philip righted the chair and moved it closer to Sara before taking her hand.

"I'm sorry, Sarabelle…it's just…I don't understand why you always feel the need to defend him?"

"You were right, Philip…I was young and needy…and he was the BMOC…it's why I didn't tell him…I didn't want him to find out and leave me…" she said wistfully.

"And so he dumped you anyway right after Spring Break…because he had to "start getting serious about his life"…"

Philip hung his head a moment, and Sara reached out to comfort him.

"So he used you and tossed you out like some unwanted plaything…god, it just tore me up…"

"You were a good friend to me when I needed it, Philip."

"That second year, god I wanted to rub his face in it and let him know that he had a child who was born healthy and beautiful-"

"And almost in the backseat of your car, as I remember," Sara added with little emotion in her soft smirk.

"I was glad I was there when you called that night," Philip recalled as he stroked the back of Sara's hand.

"And I'm glad _he _wasn't," she replied bitterly, "although second stage labor leaves you with a slightly warped view of reality. I was alone in the apartment after everyone left for summer break.

I thought that maybe he'd be there – I didn't know he decided to visit the Riviera for the summer- … I thought that maybe he'd be there, and if he took me to the hospital it would play out like all those chick flicks and he'd be so happy and we'd live deliriously in love forever after," her voice faded as the tears began.

"You did the right thing by that little one, you know?" Philip added, and Sara wiped her cheeks and inhaled to regain her composure.

"The hospital arranged for the adoption. I signed one set of papers, and she was gone," Sara spoke softly.

Philip gave her a hard glare, "And then Fall semester started, and Ken returned from his spring and summer semesters abroad, beckoned you with a phone call, and you continued right on where you'd left off. "

Looking away, "Why'd you do that, Sarabelle? Why did you go back to him knowing what he'd done to you again and again?"

Sara didn't respond right away, and Philip took in her tired countenance before sighing heavily and squeezing her hand.

"Never mind, sweetheart. If I were more of a man, I'd have stood up for you and claimed you for myself the way I always wanted to."

Sara stared up at him in shock, and Philip smiled.

"But it seems the cosmos had different plans for you, my dear," he spoke in a wistful tone, and cleared his throat before getting serious.

"I think you need to tell Gil, Sara. Remember what Professor Wycoff had posted in the doorway to his private study?"

"Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth," she whispered.

"The man wasn't an expert of Thoreau for nothing," Philip smiled, and Sara joined in at the memory of their Famous Poets class and their adored teacher.

"I can't tell Gil, he wouldn't understand…he knew I wasn't a virgin when we got together…but giving up your own child because you were young and stupid and got pregnant because you were just looking for someone to love you-"

Philip couldn't stand the pain in Sara's voice, and he jumped up and grabbed her in a tight, comforting embrace.

"I can't tell him, Philip," her trembling voice seemed small in the quiet of the room, muffled by the soft cotton of his sweater.

"Can't tell me _what_, Sara?" came the pained tones that seemed to echo from the doorway of the hospital room.


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: Best wishes go out to anyone evacuating in preparation for the East Coast hurricane…I am on my way traveling, but wanted to post this very short chapter in response to comments made by my very faithful reviewer Nancy1…"Just didn't want to leave you wondering all weekend, my friend!"…looking like the next posting will be Tuesday, but things are heating up and I promise to post regularly in the next week…thanks to all those who take the time to review and to read…it makes this wild ride even more enjoyable!...take care, and be safe this weekend if you're in the NE…Kathy…

Gil had gone to the waiting room expecting to see Catherine.

His steps slowed as the woman rose the moment she spotted his approach.

"Grissom."

Confused, Gil looked around the empty room wondering that she had been alone while waiting for him.

"Heather. What brings you here?" he asked in a poor attempt at a gracious tone.

"I needed to see you, be sure you were alright," she spoke softly as she moved towards him.

"I'm fine, Heather. It is Sara who was injured at her scene," Gil responded as Heather continued to move until she was in his personal space.

"I'm sure she'll be fine, Gil. They have wonderful doctors here," she commented as Grissom nodded in agreement.

"Besides, Sara has a knack for…shall we say…always landing on her feet?" Heather offered and did not react to Gil's irritation at her comments.

"The misfortunes my _wife_ has suffered hardly qualify her as a 'lucky' person, Heather," he said with great annoyance.

Heather's hand settled gracefully on Gil's forearm.

"Forgive me, Grissom. I see that my concern was not voiced in the proper manner."

Then, "You really need to focus a bit more on yourself, Gil…I am sure by your appearance that you haven't slept or eaten well in days."

"I'm fine," Gil responded a bit too quickly, with Heather's attentions making him uneasy.

"Why are you here, Heather?" he asked again in a slightly less confrontational tone.

"Why don't we sit, Gil?" she evaded his question as she turned and moved to sit elegantly on a double wide love seat.

"I really should get back to Sara," he spoke, yet his feet propelled him forward until he was sitting next to her.

"I stopped by your house yesterday. That very ill-mannered Sanders was supposed to give you the message."

At Gil's blank stare, she continued, "I see that he failed in even that mundane task."

Rising to the defense of the young man who still held a special place in Sara's heart, he said in retort, "Greg was doing some errands for me. I'm sure you just caught him at a bad time."

Grimacing, Heather moved her hand until it rested over Gil's joined hands settled far up on his lap.

"You are just too kind for your own good. No wonder Sara and her friends take advantage of you, Gil."

Gil snatched one hand away yet Heather did not seem to notice his irritation with this conversation.

"Was there something _you_ needed me for, Heather? Because I really should be getting back-"

"I have the proposal from the Harper Foundation. They are anxious for you to look over the prospectus and get back to them before the week's end. As they mentioned at our chance encounter, this is a hot button for them at this time…they would want you to travel to survey the site in the next week-"

Heather's brow furrowed, in a manner unusual for this domineering woman, as Gil was already shaking his head and moving to stand.

"No chance. I'm sorry, Heather. Not until Sara is home and back to work. I have to concentrate on getting her the help she needs to recover fully from her trauma."

"Has she seen a psychiatrist? I have some contacts. I'm sure, with the right medication, her illness-"

"There's nothing wrong with Sara!" he breathed angrily, "She's not in need of any psych meds!"

Rising to meet his scowling flush, Heather once again moved a bit closer as she locked gazes with him.

"Sara has a great many…friends…Grissom. There isn't any reason to put your professional life on hold while you wait around for the day your _wife_ finally learns to manage her problems on her own."

If he were the type that settled things physically, Heather would be counting stars at this moment.

"Let's get one thing straight, Heather. I spent the majority of my life focused solely on my career. It wasn't until Sara came into my life that I realized what I had been missing."

This time Gil moved into Heather's personal space.

"She _is_ my life now, Heather. And there isn't _anything_ that I will allow to come between Sara and me _anymore_."

Glancing at the folder in her hands, he waved his hand in dismissal.

"If Harper is unable to wait, please extend my apologies."

"Gil," Heather almost purred as she tossed the file onto the table, "If there's nothing I can do to persuade you, then," she inhaled deeply," Don't worry about this harming your reputation… I'll talk with James…get him to extend the project time…"

Moving so close that she could feel his breath on her face, Grissom found himself unable to move as she almost whispered, "I'll take care of you, Grissom."

Her stare was hypnotic, but the days of his body reacting to her overtures were long gone.

"If you'll excuse me, I have to get back to Sara."

"Oh, I'm sure she's fine," Heather spoke with a clear intent to befuddle the situation.

"I saw her _old friend_ sneak-…uh, _enter_ing her room right after you left," she smiled with a victorious grin.

Gil's ears began to flush as he moved down the corridor like a man on a mission.

Heather stood there a moment with a lustful stare as Grissom made his way towards Sara's room and disappeared through the threshold.

If her attention had not been so focused on Grissom, she might have noticed the figure retreating down the stairwell as the door closed quietly behind them.


	24. Chapter 24

A/N: Intermittent power outages and some storm cleanup when I returned home had me busy throughout the week while needing to use a friend's computer until our Internet was finally up and running…trying hard to return to a regular everyotherday posting schedule, even if some chapters will be shorter…this story is playing out in my head, and I am trying hard to get it all on paper…clues are continuing to be exposed to careful readers…thanks to all of you who took the time to read, to those who put this story on their alerts, and especially to all those who take the time to leave such thoughtful reviews…your comments are amazing, and truly help to shape the chapters…hope you will enjoy this shorter entry…all mistakes are mine…more soon as it is ready…take care…Kathy…

"Can't tell me _what_, Sara?" came the pained tones that seemed to echo from the doorway of the hospital room.

Sara's breath stopped as she realized Gil was at the door.

She felt Philip's arms close protectively tighter around her, making it difficult for her to raise her head to face the man she had always loved.

"Please…could you just…leave us alone… for just a while?"

Gil felt a wave of dizziness pass fleetingly as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

His brain struggled with the sight before him – his wife…enveloped in the safety of this man's embrace…_just what _was_ the truth of their relationship anyway?_

His brain reeled with the memory of the words she'd just spoken – his wife…wanting him to leave her to be alone with a man whose agenda was becoming more obvious than was palatable…_just how _much _of a past did these two share?_

His heart struggled with the worry that she was pulling away from him…again…and his breath seized as the heartache of those lonely months without contact from her slammed into his conscious thought.

She wanted _him…_ to leave _them_…alone.

From somewhere deep inside, a reservoir of buried hurt suddenly burst through Grissom's normally patient façade.

With face flushing with anger, Gil opened his mouth to launch a protest so hearty that it would surely have set off every heat-sensor embedded in the ceiling of what was rapidly becoming a room too small for three persons.

Just as he inhaled to launch the first attack, he saw Sara break free of the arms apparently reluctant to release her.

Looking upwards towards the smiling face of her old friend, Gil's mind snapped sharply in a mental whiplash as he watched Philip's smug countenance fall with Sara's words.

"Please, Philip."

At first, it seemed as if Philip too was wrestling to understand that Sara wanted _him_ to leave.

"Sar-"

"_Please_, Philip. I need to rest now. I…I just want…I just _need_…to be alone, with Gil, for a while."

When it seemed as if Philip might protest, Gil moved swiftly into the room as the door shut quietly behind them.

It would be the only quiet sound in that room for some moments to come.

"Sarabelle, are you sure?" Philip asked as he reached for Sara, only to register mild surprise as she moved to circumvent his grasp.

This move placed her between the two men who now silently squared off with each other.

"Philip," Sara asked but couldn't bear to look into his eyes, her voice sounding tired and frail.

Ignoring her plea, Philip glared at Grissom as he said, "I'm not sure leaving you alone right now is the best idea, Sarabelle. You're obviously too upset to be _interrogated_ at this moment in time."

Poker players would be interested in this face-off as each man took a step closer to Sara.

Seeing Philip's glare and raising him a scowl, Gil upped the ante in response.

"I'm no psychologist, but I think that Sara reserves the right to _talk _with her _husband_ about anything that is troubling her _any damn time she pleases_," Gil said forcefully with his attention now focused solely on the brooding man before him.

"Well, I _am_ a psychologist, and I can state _unequivocally_ that at this moment Sara is not physically able to endure the kinds of questions _you_ obviously will demand answers to!" Philip replied angrily, while secretly acknowledging this position to be in direct opposition to his early plea for her to reveal her past to her husband.

"_You_ are in no position to tell me _anything_ about how to deal with My. Wife ." Gil voiced in a low but threatening tone.

"Please," Sara tried to intervene as her strength was rapidly failing.

"It's curious the way you keep emphasizing your relationship as though she's some kind of _possession_ to you," Philip intoned with biting precision.

Inching forward, Gil reacted angrily, "YOU are _not_ my therapist, so save your armchair psychobabble for your high-priced neurotic clientele!"

"I may not be your therapist, although godknows at first blush some counseling is obviously indicated," Philip retorted smugly, "but I _am_ Sara's friend, and I will _not_ stand for her being terrorized by _you_ or anyone _else_!"

Glaring daggers, Grissom was losing control rapidly.

"Sara is not in need of any protection from the likes of _you_. She is _my_ wife, and we have no secrets from each other. If she needed _protection-_"

Gil's spiel was halted by Sara's sudden movement.

Reeling slightly as the lightheadedness was settling in, her hands trembled slightly as she raked them through her hair.

"I'm such a mess," she spoke softly, hurting that she was the cause of such contention between the love of her life and the friend who had supported her in a time of intense trials.

Both men reacted by steadying her with firm grips on either elbow as they both said aloud at the same time,

"No honey, you're beautiful," spoken with such sincerity that their eyes locked over her downcast posture and twin irritated looks were exchanged.

The friction of the moment was broken by the soft knocks on the door behind them as two heads bobbed forward asking, "Is it a bad time?"

Philip stepped away from Sara for a moment, long enough for Gil to move his arm smoothly around her waist for support.

" Greg, I'm not sure if Sara's really up to company right now," Grissom spoke without taking his eyes off his wife.

"Oh, okay…we, uh, just wanted to see how you were doing, Sara," Tessa responded with a small hitch in her voice.

Philip rolled his eyes at what he perceived as Grissom's rudeness, and added, "Tessa, I'm sure Sara will be happy to talk with you after she gets some rest."

Greg had kept his eyes on Sara's quiet frame, and the way Gil had to support her weak stance worried him.

"Listen…we're, uh, just going to go…we have to get to the lab soon anyway," he said aloud although he wasn't sure if anyone in the room was really listening.

Sara had mentored Greg well, and the investigator in him was picking up on some real tension between the two men flanking her.

Taking a cue from Grissom's refusal to speak to him directly, Greg suggested, "Philip…perhaps we can give you a lift back to your hotel?"

As Philip opened his mouth to decline, Gil responded, "That would be best for everyone, Greg, thanks."

Inhaling deeply as he noted that this was a battle lost in what was shaping up to be a long war, the psychologist nodded and moved forward for a final embrace – only to find Sara being swept off her feet into Gil's strong arms.

Moving around the stunned Philip, Grissom returned Sara's snuggling as he kissed her lightly on the forehead as he deposited her gently onto the bed before straightening the covers and kicking off his shoes.

The action was as certain a dismissal as any verbal retort, and after only a second of indecision Philip strode angrily from the room.

Gil leaned back on the hospital bed and gathered Sara lovingly in his arms, soothing her with strains of a favorite sonnet so comforting that she was asleep in minutes.

He continued to hold her as his mind reviewed the events of his meeting with Heather, the curious conversation he had overheard upon reentering the room, and the tug-o-war for Sara's attention that he had engaged in with that _bastard_.

Sensing his anger even in her sleep, Sara began to fidget and close her fist around his shirt in an act that seemed to plead for him not to leave.

"Shh…it's okay, honey…I'm not going anywhere…I won't leave you again...I love you, Sara," he repeated several times before her grip relaxed as she entered a more peaceful sleep.

Philip, however, was encountering a totally opposite experience once he had reached the elevators on the floor.

"Hey, Brass," smiled Greg as the detective stepped out of the opened doors followed by a uniformed officer, "if you're here to see Sara, Grissom just kicked us out because she-"

Jim interrupted Greg's greeting with an upturned hand.

"No. Actually I came to ask Dr. Wilson here to come down to the station to answer a few questions."

Philip blinked and his brow furrowed.

"May I ask what this is about?"

Brass put on his nicest good-cop smile and said, "Let's wait and talk about it downtown, okay?" he ended and turned slightly to signal the officer into action.

"If you will come with me, please, sir," the policeman spoke with authority as Philip moved to join him without complaint.

"Oh, Detective Brass, I'm sure Philip couldn't have done anything to hurt Sara," Tessa spoke tearfully which caused Greg to circle her shoulders in a tight reassuring action.

Brass tilted his head as he was prone to do when a suspect said something that needed to be filed away for further thought.

Only Tessa wasn't a suspect.

Yet there was something…_unusual_…in her turn of phrase that Jim's active mind wouldn't quite release.

"Tessa's right, Brass," Greg spoke more to calm Tessa than to really engage the detective in conversation.

"He's really been a friend to Sara. Especially when Grissom was away…" Greg's voice dried out as he realized for the first time that he may be implicating Philip more than excusing his behavior.

Brass donned his street-face and moved towards the now-opened elevator door.

"Thanks, Greg," Jim uttered in farewell and moved towards the anxious man and officer, leveling a steely gaze at Greg and Tessa as the door closed and hid them from view.


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: Family outing this afternoon, but I wanted to post today…this is a short entry on this busy weekend, but clues are still being revealed to careful readers…thanks again for supporting this story by your reading and by your reviews…hoping to post again very soon, as this story is begging to be written…take care…Kathy

Philip sat calmly in the interrogation room, conscious that even now someone most likely was observing him from behind the glass wall.

Indeed, Brass was there inhaling deeply in frustration as he was trying but failing to get a read on this guy.

Before Gil had made his way to the waiting room where he had been surprised to encounter Heather waiting for him, Grissom had placed a phone call to Brass informing him about the flower delivery to Sara's hospital room.

Having done some preliminary investigation, Jim had confirmed that Philip himself had phone ordered not only that plant but an exact duplicate which he had the shop send to Sara at the lab.

This was all he needed to pull this guy in for questioning.

Yet instead of interviewing him, Brass had placed him in an interrogation room.

He wanted to be sure to get the message out to this bozo that messing with Sara was serious business.

Although he was dealing with this guy by the book, Brass would make no excuses for the fact that he didn't like this doctor who seemed to be a bit too preoccupied with his friend's wife.

Having taken all the time anyone could consider reasonable, Jim straightened his shoulders and moved forward to head out into the hallway that lead to the room where Philip still sat patiently under the silent gaze of the officer posted near the door.

Nodding to Brass as he entered, the uniformed policeman moved to the corner as the detective sat down across from the doctor.

"Do I need a lawyer?" Philip asked in a preemptive strike, as he had sized up the detective but was still curious as for the motives for this confinement.

"Nah…we're just talkin'" Brass responded amiably, all the while throwing a glance over his shoulder at the guard in an obvious attempt to point out the armed officer's presence.

"How can I help you, Captain Brass?" Philip leaned backwards casually in a practiced move that often gave his patients the confidence to start speaking as to their reasons for seeking counseling.

The move was not lost on Jim, yet his experience allowed him to yield the floor – for now.

"Well, I'll tell you, Philip," he began with hands clasped before him as he leaned forward onto the table, "I'm very confused."

Somewhat surprised at the lack of animosity shown by his opening remarks, Philip was intrigued and bade the captain to continue.

"I mean, you say you're a friend of Sara's, you just want what's best for her –" he paused as he noticed Philip hanging on his every word.

"And then you send her flowers with messages that seem to have an intent to all but terrorize her-" he continued but was stopped by Philip's hands slamming down on the table before him.

"WHAT are you talking about? I never did any such thing!" his face reddened in anger.

"You never sent Sara flowers." Brass spoke without moving a muscle, a stark contrast to Philip now raking his hands through his hair.

"Of _course_ I sent her flowers! At the lab to let her know I had gotten home safely," the young man sat back and tried to regain some composure.

"And you included a note. The florist said you faxed her the order with a personal note to be included," Jim spoke evenly.

"Yes…yes, I did…the note was…personal…and I felt it was best to just write it out myself to be included on the card," Philip answered with a bit of a flush creeping over his cheeks

"Well, let me tell you, guy, your choice of poetry was – shall we say – in pretty bad taste for someone who-"

Philip interrupted again, "What are we discussing here, Capt. Brass? When I spoke to Greg on the phone he told me where Sara has been hospitalized, and I sent her the florist's specialty plant again. This time I included part of a poem I used to read to Sara."

Brass looked at Philip, his silence urging the man to continue in hopes of revealing some off-the-cuff remark that might incriminate him.

Leaning back, Philip's fingers played on the edge of the table as he added, "Sara and I took a poetry class our final semester. She and I worked with several other students to present a project on William Cullen Bryant.

I sent her part of one of her favorite works, in an effort to cajole her into coming back to the East Coast and attending our class reunion coming up next week."

Brass considered the facts as he knew them. Although Grissom had only told him about the poetry and its obvious message, Philip was unaware of Jim's ignorance as to the verse.

Now the detective decided to get something on the record.

"Really? Wow…poetry. Not my thing really. Did you include that poem in your fax to the florist's, too?"

Pulling out his I-Phone, Philip touched several buttons before the screen lit up and the device was pushed across the table to the sure hands of the detective.

The screen listed yesterday's date, the order confirmation number from the 'Specially For You florists and the request for the following to be included on the message card:

In the old mossy groves on the breast of the mountain,  
>In deep lonely glens where the waters complain,<br>By the shade of the rock, by the gush of the fountain,  
><em><strong>I seek your loved footsteps<strong>_, but seek them in vain.

Oh, leave not, forlorn and for ever forsaken,  
>Your pupil and victim to life and its tears!<br>But sometimes _**return**_, _**and**_ in mercy _**awaken**_  
><em><strong>The glories<strong>_ ye showed to his earlier years.

_Come to the reunion, Sara. You need the time away from Vegas._

_Come to me, Sarabelle, and I'll be sure to keep you safe._

_~Philip_

Jim's eyebrows scrunched only for a moment.

This was verifiable information as the screen yielded the florist's contact, and from the date stamp Brass expected to discover the veracity of this information.

And when it checked out, he would be left with only one disturbing conclusion:

If someone had tampered with the flower delivery to the hospital, it was logical to assume the lab delivery was also tampered with.

_But who would have had access to both venues?_


	26. Chapter 26

A/N: Posting late and without time to reread…all mistakes are mine…more clues are being revealed…we're getting closer to the big revelation…hopefully more in two days if not before…take care…your reviews mean the world to me…Kathy…

A soft knock on the door caused Gil to stir, and he quickly awakened as Sara slept peacefully curled up next to him.

Early daylight streamed in through the closed shades, causing Grissom to check his watch and marvel at the early hour.

He had refused dinner for Sara when they brought her tray the night before, realizing that she needed sleep more than food at the moment.

He was, however, unprepared for the fact that he had joined her as she had slept over 12 hours and immediately he reached over to caress her face in a move designed to assure himself of her well-being.

A second knock found the door opening and a wheelchair preceding the familiar face.

"Good morning, Dr. Grissom," Mary smiled as she spoke in tones that showed her recognition of Sara's sleeping state.

"Hi, Mary…uh, Sara's still asleep," he responded softly as he turned his attention towards the woman he was shifting carefully onto the pillows before taking his leave of her.

"Well, we can give her a few more minutes before I take her," the nurse spoke calmly but was immediately assailed by Gil's questions.

"Where are you taking her? No one mentioned that she was going to have any tests. I'm not sure Sara's exactly ready to submit to anymore poking or prodding," he insisted.

Mary smiled reassuringly as she had moved towards the shades and was opening them slightly to allow more natural light into the room.

"No more tests, Dr. Grissom, I assure you. Dr. West wanted to see Sara before his rounds this morning."

Confused, Gil whipped his head around and was about to inquire as to the need for the wheelchair when the nurse continued.

"Dr. West asked me to bring Sara to his office so that they wouldn't be disturbed by any interference from the floor nurses," she finished as if the whole matter was not at all unusual.

Grissom nodded as he turned towards Sara to help awaken her, only to be stopped by Mary's hand on his forearm.

"Why don't you let me do that? You stayed with her all night, why not take this time to run on home and shower before you come back? Maybe pack a bag for Sara? If I'm not going out on too long of a limb here, I'm wondering if the doctor might not even send her home today."

"I'm not leaving her, Mary. I should be with her when she goes to her checkup," Gil asked, his brain was faltering in wrapping around the rush of information he was receiving.

Memories from Sara's last lengthy admission caused Mary to choose a different tack in dealing with Grissom's overprotective nature.

"It won't be necessary for you to take her, Dr. Grissom. Dr. West is going to talk with Sara and check over her bruises. He won't be needing your help to do that," Mary said with a finality that actually startled Gil.

"In other words, he doesn't want me there," Grissom pouted almost angrily, but when Mary failed to respond he inhaled and tried to remember the promise he had made to Ian not to interfere with Sara's care in exchange for full access to her room, effectively circumventing hospital policy on visiting hours.

Allowing him a moment to overcome his objectives, Mary smiled brightly at Gil and gave him a promise to stay with Sara until his return.

As he began one more valiant attempt at cajoling her to allow him to stay, from behind a sleep-laden voice softly intoned, "Gil…it's fine…"

Two heads turned as Gil moved to sit on her bedside with an almost pleading look.

Grasping his hands, Sara smiled a bit and looked directly into his eyes as she repeated, "It's fine…Mary will be with me until you get back."

Sighing, he replied, "Fine…but I won't be long," and turning to Mary he again pouted with, "and I _won't_ like it."

With a firm kiss to her forehead and another softer peck on the lips, Gil sighed and moved towards the door without looking back, as if the action would cause him to change his mind.

Outside the door, Gil paused as he greeted the officer on guard with a look that stated his warning for vigilance more clearly than any statement.

As he left, he heard the sounds of Sara's soft laughter as she responded to Mary's comments on his reluctance to leave.

The sound filled his heart with an aching need to hold her close, protect her from any further harm, and create a perfect hideaway for her to have happiness surround her for the rest of her days.

As he walked towards the elevators, a single thought was taking hold:

_Maybe it was time for us to leave Vegas…_

gsrgsrgsrgsrgsrgsr

"Sara! Thanks for coming," Ian West greeted them as he held the door open for Mary to wheel in his patient.

After a quick exam of her healing wounds, Mary helped Sara with her hospital gown and wheeled her closer to the doctor's desk.

"Thanks, Mary. I'll page you when we're done," he smiled at the nurse who patted Sara's shoulders and reminded her that she'd be close by.

Sara sat staring at the doctor as he made some short notes in her chart and then closed the file before resting against the back of her chair.

Tensing a bit, she realized the reason he wanted to speak to her without Gil present.

Taking a moment to study Sara's expression, Ian smiled softly and said, "Relax, Sara. I'm not here to give you a hard time."

Relaxing slightly, Sara exhaled deeply and looked anywhere but at the man who was waiting for an answer.

Finally, as a full minute ticked by, she looked back into the kind eyes across from her and said, "It was my choice. I didn't see the need to burden him any further."

Sighing quietly, Ian refused to go down the "blame road" with this woman who had endured so much in her life.

After refusing to speak with the hospital psychologist during her last hospitalization, she and Dr. West had agreed that he'd suspend the mandatory counseling interview if Sara would talk informally with him.

A truly gentle man, Sara found herself opening up to him about her family situation and some stories about her time in foster care.

Her trust would be tried as she insisted that Dr. West not inform Grissom of the miscarriage she had suffered due to the trauma of her desert ordeal at the hands of Natalie.

Despite his efforts, she had not budged on the issue, citing her desire to wait for the "right time" to broach the subject with the man she loved.

"So here we are years later and you've never given him the opportunity to grieve for a child he lost."

The words were hurtful when placed in this connotation, but Sara steadfastly held to her position.

"Gil already blamed himself for my getting hurt…how devastated do you think he'd be if he knew that he was instrumental in killing our baby?" Sara spat.

"Do you really believe that, Sara?" the doctor leaned forward, listening intently to her choice of words.

"What? That he'd be devastated? Of course I believe that!" she snarled and looked away from the quiet calm of the man before her.

"No…you said 'if he knew that he was instrumental in killing your baby'…do you really believe that he was, Sara?" Ian asked quietly.

Her head whipped around and her mouth hung open trying to answer.

Leaning back, the doctor continued, "You still have many unaddressed hurts in your lifetime, Sara. I'm just wondering how these might be affecting your relationship with Gil."

Sara wrung her hands unconsciously as she spoke, "I'm fine. Gil and I are just fine."

Smiling, Ian responded, "He loves you very much. I believe he'd lay down his life for you, Sara."

One side of her mouth lifted up sadly as she nodded her head in response.

Leaning forward, "And I believe _you _feel that you must hide away your own life for him. That's not love, Sara." Ian shook his head as he relaxed back against his chair.

Her protest was swift and decisive.

"You know nothing about me! Don't sit there and tell me what love is, doctor! I would never raise a hand or a voice to Gil!"

Her voice trembled as her lips followed in turn.

"I know what it is like to lose a child! I know the pain of holding on to something and then having to give it away! I would never want Gil to go through that pain, to feel so helpless and to know that it was all your fault…all your f-f-fault," her words breaking up as her shoulders began to shake.

A warm hand clasped over hers as she felt Ian slip into a chair pulled alongside her.

His other arm crossed to her shoulders and he held her to his side as cried as silently as she could.

After a moment, her calm returned somewhat and when tissues were used and discarded, Sara surprised even herself as she found herself telling this fatherly doctor about the baby she gave up for adoption while a freshman at Harvard.

The tale ended without interruption, and finally Sara looked up expecting to find chastisement in the man's eyes.

Instead, there was only sorrow and understanding.

He silently bade her to continue, and with a renewed sense of purpose Sara pushed on.

"And that is the regret and the self-doubt I live with, Ian," she spoke as she looked at him with a sense of remorse so keen as to make the seasoned doctor cringe.

"And that is what I would never allow Gil to live with," she ended as she pulled away into her own space.

"So…this baby that you…miscarried…wasn't your first pregnancy," Ian asked to clarify the situation.

Shaking her head, Sara sat upright with shoulders a bit too tense.

"And Gil doesn't know about either pregnancy," the doctor added, seeing the effects of his question on her posture.

"And he won't," she turned to glare at him almost in confrontation, "he worries enough about me. And I am fine now."

"Well," Ian began facetiously, "that's quite a burden you've chosen to shoulder alone, Sara. If I had someone who loved me as much as Gil Grissom loves you, I'd trust him enough to help share that weight."

Shaking her head, Sara let slip out the one real truth that stopped her from ever telling Gil her full story.

"I'm damaged goods, doctor. Gil loves the woman he knows, the woman he's been allowed to know."

A tear slipped out as she added, "He knows enough about my past…I really don't think knowing the whole story would make me look that attractive of a package to hang onto as he maneuvers through his life."

"In other words, you don't trust him."

Shocked, Sara argued, "I trust him with my _life_."

Ian retorted, "Just not with the _story_ of your life."

Silence hung heavy in the room.

Not wanting to minimize the effects of this session, asked, "Did you ever try to find your child? A daughter?" he guessed.

Sara nodded on both counts.

"After I moved to San Francisco, I contacted the hospital who sent me to agency after agency. Finally I was sent a form to fill out and leave on file. If my daughter's adoptive parents agreed, they could contact me. When she turned 18, she would have my contact information sent to her directly if she ever tried to find me."

After a moment where Sara seemed lost in thought, Ian asked, "I'm to assume no one ever contacted you?"

Her face was expressionless as she shook her head in response.

"Sara," Ian leaned towards her and cupped her face in his hand.

"You know I would never repeat anything you told me here…to _anyone_…but I am _urging_ you to talk to Gil about everything we've discussed here."

Sara tried to pull away, but Ian kept a firm but gentle grip on her face.

"Sara, you're quite easy to feel protective over," he smiled as he released her chin and patted her hand.

"Carrying around the guilt over your pregnancies is only hurting you. It is coloring your interactions and keeping you from a full relationship with Gil. You're underestimating the bond he's created with you."

Seeing as she was really listening to what he was saying, Ian continued, " Sara, I'm honored that you chose to confide in me all these things that you've kept locked up inside you all these years."

He added quickly, "Although it is unusual, I don't believe you are in need of counseling at this point in your life."

Sara was stunned at this statement for in the past everyone was always pushing her towards the "salvation" of the therapist's couch.

To clarify his words, the doctor said, "In your case, I believe it would be best if you had someone close to you to help you deal with the sorrows of the past in order to help you dig out of these walls you've erected around yourself."

She was still reeling over the doctor's words as she felt his hand close over hers again.

"Will you do something for me, Sara?"

Her eyes locked onto his as she nodded without reservation.

"I just want you to think about everything we've spoken about today. And when you feel ready, will you think about sharing some more of your story with Gil?"

Not entirely expecting a response, Dr. West stood up and moved toward his phone to page Mary.

As they waited, Ian sat down at his desk and smiled at Sara.

"I'm discharging you today after you get some food in you, young lady. I want you to rest and take it easy for at least two weeks."

Raising his hand to forestall her protests, he scribbled some words on a prescription pad and handed it to Mary as she approached his desk.

"We're kicking this one to the curb, Mary," he said cheekily, and even Sara had to smile.

Mary took the papers and moved to the back of the wheelchair as Sara locked eyes with the kind doctor.

"When you're ready, call me and we'll talk some more, okay?" he asked quietly, and was rewarded with a full Sidle Smile.

"Now, get her some food and call that young man of hers, Mary," the doctor sat back and added, "we want her home and happy by the end of the afternoon."

Sara gave him a soft wave as her chair turned and soon was out of sight.

Ian sat back in the silence of his office, allowing his sadness for his young patient to come to the surface before signing off on her casefile and placing it in his outbox.


	27. Chapter 27

A/N: Rushing to post without a reread...all mistakes are mine...thanks loads for the reviews...don't kill the messenger...more in two more days...take care...Kathy

Sara's eyes drooped even as she tried valiantly to fight off the fatigue that threatened to overtake her.

Settling against the warmth of the afghan Gil had draped over her as she sat on their comfy couch cushions, relief at finally being back home warred with the conversation she had engaged in earlier.

"_I trust him with my life!"_

"_Just not with the _story_ of your life."_

"Penny for your thoughts," came the loving tones from the kitchen as Gil approached with a steaming mug of chamomile tea.

Instead of answering, Sara took stock of the man before her.

Fussing over steeping the tea ball until the brew was just the right color of amber, expertly juggling a plate of cut up kiwi and strawberries served with mock-flourish to entice her to just 'eat a bit'…he was a gorgeous hunk of man who could have his pick of any woman who crossed his path.

But he had chosen her.

Or rather, the _her_ she had allowed him to know.

"Honey?" Gil asked quietly, his head cocked slightly as he questioned her silence without further words.

Sara closed her eyes as the weariness of her soul finally balanced with that of her healing body.

"I think I'm just going to head off to rest," she replied and, as she moved to release herself from her comfortable position, Gil noticed the great effort it took for her to complete the simple task.

"Here, honey…let me help you," he offered, and was taken aback by her sudden refusal to allow him near.

"I _said _I could do this," she snapped, her own conscious confused as to her sudden irritation with his gentle overtures.

Worried about her quiet demeanor since his return to the hospital, Gil wondered just what had occurred during her visit with Dr. West.

"Sara," Grissom inhaled, his own temper fighting for a control Gil had not intent to surrender.

"Talk to me, honey. Something's been troubling you, don't deny it. I know you're tired, but you're really not acting like yourself-"

And those words were, as the saying goes, the last straw for Sara's confused demeanor.

"Like _you_ would know me so well," she spat disparagingly.

Gil sat back as if she had slapped him.

"And just what the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?" he stood and glared at her, his own energy reserved depleted and his worry overshadowing his usual calm.

"Forget it," Sara mumbled as she attempted again to rise from the couch only to find herself pushed backwards a bit too forcefully.

"Dammit, Sara! I'm trying to be patient here, but clearly there's been something you've been unwilling to share with me for quite a while, and I am starting to wonder if there's more than just your unresolved trauma with Natalie at play here!"

She opened her mouth to defend herself, but Gil was on a roll now.

As he paced back and forth before her, Sara was starting to feel trapped in much the way she had at the therapist's office in San Francisco.

"I've been waiting…hoping…that you would feel comfortable enough to talk to me about whatever it is you've been feeling. But _no-o-o-_" he stopped and glared at her.

"No…you won't share anything with me…you think I haven't figured out that you lied about finishing your sessions with that therapist you hated so much in San Francisco?"

Sara's face blanched as she felt herself become mute.

"You think that it doesn't tear me apart every time I see you hugging yourself so tightly that you fear you'll come apart at the seams if you release yourself?"

She had thought he wasn't paying attention to her efforts to hold herself together when the flashbacks plagued her.

"You think it was easy for me to let you come back here alone, when I knew it was the worst place for you to be without someone to ease your hurts and be there for you when the nightmares came?"

Sara looked at this man who was ranting and sharing more in this moment than he had shared with her in the months since he'd shown up that humid day in Costa Rica.

"Do you know how hard it is to know that you don't trust me enough to understand the horror you lived through…and apparently are _still_ living through?"

"_I trust him with my life!"_

"_Just not with the _story_ of your life."_

"Gil," she reached out for him, and was stunned when he pushed her outstretched hand away.

"Oh, and then to walk in and see you sharing an intimate moment with a man I never knew you had a past with, Sara…and to hear-" his voice cracked, and he turned to prevent her from seeing the hurt that transgression caused in him.

"Gil…I'm sorry, baby," she tried, but he was having none of it.

"Don't, Sara…the words mean nothing without the actions to back them up," he bit out as he grabbed the now-chilled teacup and stomped towards the kitchen.

Her conversation with Dr. West swelling through her thoughts, Sara stood too quickly to follow Gil when her energy drained a bit and the next thing she knew she was staring up into his concerned blue eyes.

"Gil," she said softly, confused as to how she wound up in his arms after his well-deserved tirade mere seconds before.

"God, Sara, please…forgive me…I-I shouldn't have unloaded on you like that…you're just out of the hospital and god, I don't know what's going on with me…I'm so sorry…you scared me so much when I heard you move and saw you faint dead away before me…I'm so sorry, honey," Gil pleaded and he held her tightly to him.

"No…no, Gil," Sara started, wanting him to know that she heard and finally understood how unfair she had been to keep her pain to herself.

But Gil wasn't hearing it.

"Honey…please, forgive me…" he pleaded again, the flush in his cheeks alerting her to the rapid rise of his blood pressure.

"Gil…baby, I love you," Sara tried to gather him into a hug but her body was beginning to protest her current position.

"Honey…Sara…I shouldn't have pushed you…I just want you to know I am here for you when you want to talk…when you need to finally put the rest of your ghosts to rest," he spoke softly, as he had her attention when he repeated her own words she had spoken in that fateful letter from long ago.

"It's not that easy," Sara whispered, and Gil hugged her tighter.

"You still have a long way to go, honey, to finally breathe without inhaling the pain of your past," he said matter-of-factly, "but all long journeys begin with a first step."

His arms stiffened around her as she inhaled and simply stated without fanfare, "I gave birth to a child when I was 16."

Gil's head reeled as his synapses flew through years of memory and extrapolated the facts that he knew from Sara's few revelations of her past.

-She had been the victim of a rape when she was a teenager.

-She had left foster care to enter early admission to Harvard at age 16.

-She had known Philip while she was a student there, and from their current observed behaviors they were more than casual friends.

-As someone who had loved Sara from afar for years, the signs were obvious of Philip's continuing attraction and attachment to Sara.

-"I can't tell him." Those words now took on new meaning as Gil was taking facts and coming up with erroneous conclusions.

"When I was a freshman. I knew I couldn't handle a baby, hell I was struggling to handle the pressures of putting my past behi-" she stopped as she felt herself suddenly released from Gil's reassuring grasp.

Gil helped her to the couch and resumed his pacing.

From his movements, Sara could see that everything had changed.

Just as she knew it would.

"Gil?" she asked quietly, but he was turned away from her in an attempt to grapple with some understanding of all that she had gone through.

Knowing that he was processing the distressing information in the only way he always did, Sara hoped to shed some more light on her story.

"I was _alone_, Gil. If it wasn't for Phili-"

"_Don't _, Sara!" Grissom shouted as he turned towards her with angry eyes.

"Do _not_ mention his name in my house!" he demanded as he moved towards the hallway table to reach for his car keys.

He felt that if he didn't leave soon he just might suffocate from the pain her revelations had caused him.

_Sara and Philip have a child together…he wants her back…she's going to leave me…and how do I compete with the memory of a relationship that gave her everything I can't…_

Fate has a fickle sense of humor for, just as Gil neared the hall, their house bell rang signaling someone at the door.

"Gil…_please..._" Sara cried out, and suddenly the ring morphed into furious banging on the front door.

An already upset Grissom yanked the door right out from under the raised fist poised to pound again and came face to face with a panicky Philip Wilson.

And as Sara cried out in shock, all the emotional upset that Grissom was currently dealing with translated into one perfectly placed uppercut that sent Philip reeling unconscious onto their front porch as Gil stepped over his prone form and rushed down the sidewalk to his parked vehicle.


	28. Chapter 28

_A/N: The delay was unintentional and basically not enough time to write and to help those who were displaced during the recent flooding in the NE...I will try very hard to keep to the every other day posting schedule...your patience is so appreciated, as are the incredible reviews for the last chapter...some of you felt Gil's actions were a bit OOC...this shorter chapter aims to shed light on his behavior...thanks for all the great support of this story...all mistakes are mine as there is no time to reread as I'm heading off to rest before another big day tomorrow...take care...you are all so terrific...and yes, a bit of a cliffhanger ending...Kathy..._

_Sara and Philip have a child together…he wants her back…she's going to leave me…and how do I compete with the memory of a relationship that gave her everything I can't…_

This thought continued to haunt every flashback of Gil's relationship with Sara.

Three days had passed since he had stormed from their home leaving Sara calling after him in vain.

The amber liquid swirled softly over the ice in the tumbler currently clenched in Gil's large hand.

As he raised the drink to his lips, the starlight infusing the darkened room from the opened window created a kaleidoscope of brown hues on the bottom of the clear glass.

_Like those tiny specks of gold in Sara's eyes…_

Grissom kept the sip of scotch on his tongue and, although it held a bit of a bite, he was grateful for at least some feeling in his otherwise numbed body.

Having left his home and his wife, Gil had driven around aimlessly at high speed across the west highway leading out to the desert.

Finally, he had pulled over towards an area that offered a landscape of large boulders and shifting sands.

It was there that Gil Grissom had wept for the ache that now decimated his heart.

For the first time, he allowed himself to really grieve for the child that Natalie's actions had taken from them.

_During one of the long nights he had spent keeping vigil at Sara's bedside after her desert ordeal, a nurse brought around the next round of medication to be added to the IV lines._

_Responding to a page, the woman left her cart just inside the door…and Gil took advantage of that short interlude to snatch a quick look at Sara's chart._

_What he had discovered horrified him as his eyes snapped to a sleeping Sara, still barely aware of all that was happening._

"Traumatic abortion of a fetus approximately two months developed."

_His training caused him to quickly read through the list of medications that were being added to ensure full expulsion of the uterine lining without need for a D&C._

_Two months…Sara might not even have known as she still suffered from irregular monthly cycles…_

_The idea of her pregnancy shocked this seasoned investigator as the possibility of conception was not something he had expected as they were careful in their lovemaking and Sara never seemed eager to try for a child…_

_But in that moment as his eyes confirmed yet again that she had conceived a child, Gil wondered what to do, what to say, _if_ he should say anything at all to comfort Sara._

_Yet in the aftermath of her hospitalization, Sara never mentioned to him that she had suffered a miscarriage, and for a while Gil was grateful that he didn't have to address that issue and that Sara had been spared the heartache._

_As time went on, however, cases involving young children began to weigh even heavier on his mind and heart until finally he forced himself to follow Sara's lead and begin a new life away from the pain of 'what people do to each other'._

Now Gil found himself alone again in his grief, finally allowing himself to express the loss of a child he and Sara would have raised together and loved more than life itself.

"_Traumatic abortion"_

The words stood out in Gil's memory as if the chart lay before him at this moment.

"It was my fault she lost the baby," Gil spoke aloud to the rising wind, his voice cracking under the sheer heartache of his guilt.

"Philip was able to give her a child, be there with her, share in the joy of that wonder," he moaned irrationally as his head fell to his hands.

Gil always knew Sara could do so much better than him. What did she ever see in him to begin with?

He was too old for her, too set in his ways, unable or unwilling to change.

And yet, Sara _had_ changed him.

And my god, he loved her.

And it was the expressions of that love that caused Natalie to target Sara and create the nightmare that led to the loss of their only child.

So what if Sara was wise enough to allow her firstborn to be adopted. She said it herself that she was no more than a child at the time.

He could never, would never, fault her for that.

No, the disclosure of childbearing had not been a problem.

Still…'If it hadn't been for Philip…" Sara had said, and Gil had cut her off in midsentence, unable to hear the rest of those painful words.

Because Gil Grissom could hear his own conscience completing that thought accusing 'If it hadn't been for _you_, Grissom," that Sara would be holding _their _child happily today.

Oh, he was jealous of Philip.

Here was a man who shared a past, and now a future, with the only woman who had ever known the real Gil Grissom – and loved him anyway.

"I shouldn't have hit him," he said aloud to no one but the specters that surrounded him in his greatly inebriated state.

Yet a small smile indicated some pleasure at the memory of Philip's perfect face crumbling under the weight of Gil's well-placed fist.

That grin was short-lived however when Gil remembered that Sara had watched the entire horrible interlude, memories of her shouting his name causing him to reach for the bottle only to find it empty.

"She must think I'm no better than her old man," he muttered with such self-loathing that his only thought was to drink himself past the point of caring about the wonderful life he had just thrown away.

Cursing, he threw the drained bottle against the wall with the accuracy of the town drunk as he watched it bounce and join the other two already littering that corner of that rented cabin.

Three days.

She was probably gone now, perfect Philip having taken her away from her big, bad husband who was too much of a coward to stay and listen to her end their happily ever after face-to-face.

Well…he had given her that much.

At least she wouldn't have to see how he hurt as she left; he'd spared her that guilty memory at least.

And now she was probably off to start a new life, and she'd _never_ find out about the loss of their child…no, she wouldn't have to live with that pain either, he'd seen to that.

Even when Ian probed a bit about "adding to their family", Gil had been sure to cut off _that_ conversation before it even began.

Luckily, Sara seemed no wiser to the doctor's insinuation.

Now Gil's head was swimming as he lurched forward from the chair diving haphazardly onto the softness of the twin bed under the window.

As he lay there feeling like a shell of his former self, Gil wondered if the coroners' stories of hearts stopping from grief were actually true – and if so, would a greater entity take pity on him and simply stop _his_ pain?

It might have been mere minutes or several hours, but from somewhere in the cool darkness an irritating chime was disturbing Gil's dreamless rest.

More persistent than it had been in days, he was realizing that his much-needed sleep would not be peaceful unless he uncovered the source of the distracting tones.

Lifting his head painfully from its perch on the flattened pillows, the sound stopped only to start again with an exasperating frequency.

His hands fumbled into the pocket of the jacket that he had thrown to the floor upon entering this cabin nestled among the trees in a secluded area off the desert near the city.

Fingers clumsily slid into his pocket and pulled out the cell phone which was lit up with several missed calls and even more text messages.

The most current caller was listed among the main menu of incoming calls.

Sara's name was listed first, but only once.

Somehow that realization saddened him deeply.

Brass' name continued to command the list, and the intensity of his latest round of calls signaled either his irritation with Gil being out-of-contact or a serious situation at the lab.

Or with Sara.

That thought had Grissom fumbling and cursing as his head began to protest the amount of alcohol he had recently imbibed.

He was focusing on another try at responding when the unit chimed again in his hand.

Answering with great apprehension, Gil almost pleaded, "Jim?"

Momentarily taken aback by the gruff sound of his good friend, all thoughts of chastisement took a back seat to the important urgency of the call.

"Gil…you need to get here…"

Grissom found himself unable to breathe deeply, panic setting up all wild ideas running through his head – and all them boding ill for Sara.

"Jim…just tell me…is Sara alright?"

The ensuing pause on the other end brought the sound of his heartbeat racing through his ears as Gil pressed, "Jim?"

A long breath before Brass would respond, "That's why I need you here now, Gil. Where are you anyway?"

And that is how Gil Grissom found his freshly cold-showered body being loaded into a LVPD detective's car as it tore away towards another edge of Vegas and the disturbing scene it would present.


	29. Chapter 29

A/N: This story remains a priority and hopefully will get back to a regular posting schedule once real life gets back on a regular schedule…your reviews have prompted a slight turn of events in this story, proving once again that reviews do help shape the story…again, another cliffhanger – although careful readers may just find more clues being uncovered…looking to add more soon…thanks to all those remaining patient with these updates…more soon as I can…hope you will stay tuned…take care…Kathy

His headache rivaled that of his heart as Gil's eyes processed the lake area already cordoned off with the yellow crime scene tape.

Crime scene.

Grissom's stomach lurched as he staved off the nausea by sheer will alone.

Jim had been cryptic in his relating the details of the callout, stating simply that they would have to 'wait-and-see'…and then began his 'what were you thinking' tirade as he related how worried everyone had been about his disappearance.

But Gil wasn't worried about 'everyone's' anxiety about his departure.

Even now, he held onto the small hope that, even after his uncharacteristic outburst, Sara still cared that he was gone.

The lone officer on the scene looked sickly grey as he could only give them halting directions towards the evergreen-shaded lake edge before inhaling deeply and continue his valiant fight to keep down the bile that was rising into this throat.

Allowing Jim to lead the way, Gil's head swam with possible scenarios they would find.

Having just reached the water's edge, the detective could already hear the distant sounds of CSI vehicles nearing the scene.

Yet the sight before him had caused Gil to channel out anything other than the horrific image presenting itself mere feet away – and its devastating implications.

Floating face down, brown hair a bit longer than shoulder length matted with mud and debris, lay a tall body of a what appeared to be a woman.

That fact had the seasoned investigator shaking his head in silent disbelief.

_There are many women with those characteristics_, he argued with himself, still unable to shake off the ominous undertones.

Yet, there was one piece of evidence that would remain irrefutable once fully uncovered.

The black, sleeveless vest in which the barefoot, jean-clad body was clothed – now mostly submerged as the thin, down filling had fully absorbed the murky wetness surrounding it – was similar to department-issued vests.

From behind, Gil could hear Nick's admonition that Greg "hurry on, loverboy", yet his focus remained on that vest.

A low whistle escaped Nick's lips, his eyebrows puckered slightly as he surveyed the scene before turning his attention to Grissom.

"Well, you're a sight for sore eyes," the Texan began amiably, yet his message was clear.

"Nick-" Gil began, then stopped as he looked over at Greg who had been silent since their arrival.

"What's wrong with Greg?" he asked, as Nick rolled his eyes and moved closer to keep his answer private.

"Man has love trouble," he began with a smirk.

"Seems Tessa had two nights off this week, and Greg had switched his own nights so he could surprise her with a getaway – only she stood him up."

Gil looked over at Greg forcing himself to be professional at the scene but failing miserably at keeping his anger in check.

Tossing a glance over his shoulder, Nick concluded, "Worse, she didn't show up at the lab tonight so he had to deal with Catherine's threat to keep _him_ in the lab to cover for her."

Sighing, he added, "He really has it bad for that chick. She has him eating out of her hand."

Shrugging his shoulders, Nick lifted his kit. "Women. I can't figure them out."

Gil turned back to the security tape as the coroner's van pulled up and David stepped out.

Brass filled him in quickly as he led them towards the water's edge; a smile popping out on David's face upon seeing Grissom.

"Hello, David," Gil managed, his thoughts distracted by what the next few minutes would hold.

"Good to see you, Griss," the young coroner gushed, and his old boss knew the greeting was heartfelt.

The pleasantries ended as David turned towards the body.

His eyes snapped to Grissom's as the unasked question was answered.

"Looks like a CSI vest…" the coroner was speaking aloud as he neared the body.

Nick scoffed, but in his heart he also knew the truth.

David stepped twice into the water before asking if photos had been taken.

"I'm on it," Greg spoke for the first time, and in moments the task was completed.

"Nick, help me roll her over to the edge?" David asked as Gil held his breath.

A small gasp was uttered by almost everyone at the completion of the task.

The body was fully bloated, unrecognizable as human, with a gunshot wound to the face - apparently pointblank – having removed most of the central facial characteristics.

The rest of the face's tissue was swollen with lake water, making even the shape of the face indiscernible.

Yet no one was searching that area as all eyes were glued to the name plate sewn onto the chest area.

David's hands brushed the muddy dirt away from the cloth, and Gil's heart stopped as the S-I were unveiled.

"This is NOT. HER.!" spoke Nick emphatically, falling to his knees with outreached hands in an attempt to uncover some answers to this mystery.

"Nick! STOP!" ordered Grissom, his supervisory instincts causing him to react swiftly.

The Texan halted as emotion-swept eyes pleaded with his old boss.

"David," Gil continued, everyone seemingly agreeable to his ordering them around as if he were still in charge of the graveyard crew.

"Transport this body and personally take charge of the disposition at the lab until we arrive back there," he spoke and the coroner grabbed Greg to help him maneuver the gurney and body bag down the slight embankment.

"Nick, get back to the lab. Get in contact with Sara. Call Brass when she's in your sight, and stay with her until you get further instructions."

Nick nodded, his pulse racing as he hesitantly reminded Grissom, "Someone needs to process this area…maybe you should-"

Grissom just shook his head, "It would be best if _you_ would take care of Sara, Nick…don't let on what's been found here."

Nodding to Brass as if to secure a final assent, Jim glanced at Grissom and merely nodded which sent the tall CSI scurrying towards the Denali.

"Now what?" Brass asked in the few seconds of calm remaining.

Gil rubbed his forehead, the image of Sara's vest clothing those damaged remains burning itself into his memory…the stuff of which nightmares are made.

_This _is_ my nightmare, _he thought, cursing himself for leaving her alone over the last three days.

David pulled out the body bag and was starting to prepare for transport when Gil suddenly asked, "David, did you take a liver temp?"

The coroner looked surprised and answered, "Lake water would have lowered the temp, so TOD would be inexact," he replied.

"Still, just…could you do it anyway?" Gil asked, and Brass stepped closer looking curious as to where this was heading.

The coroner's forehead crinkled as the reading came back much higher than expected.

His confusion was not mirrored on Grissom's face, which Brass now was searching in an effort to find an answer.

"David, have the lab check for the presence of chlorine on the clothing and epithelials," Gil ordered and the young man stood from his crouched position to come face-to-face with the scientist.

"You think-" he started, but Grissom answered without his completing the thought.

"This is not the primary crime scene."

David looked around before answering.

"This was a body dump. You believe this body was kept somewhere else, most likely submerged, before it was brought here."

Brass looked stunned by this pronouncement and continued to stare silently at these two men who were jointly forming a conclusion that might begin the steps to uncovering the killer.

"What tipped you off?" David asked, already buying into Grissom's conjecture.

"Lack of insect activity," was the only answer, as if that should have been a foregone conclusion.

"What do you estimate as to the length of submersion, based on the bloating of the tissue?" Grissom continued, wincing as he eyed Greg's distress in staring at the vest's nameplate.

David inhaled before speaking.

"Based on similar cases of waterlogged decomps, I think it's fair to say – three days."

Three days.

The words stunned Grissom as his eyes flicked first to David then down to the body that lay next to the gurney.

_Three days._

_Oh. My. God._

_Sara._

Gil was stunned immobile as Brass was already barking into his phone to have a unit sent over to the Grissom residence as backup for CSI Stokes who was enroute.


	30. Chapter 30

A/N: And now it is finally time to reveal that **CSIKathy** and **Aninom** were the first readers to email me a long way back about their suspicions that are confirmed in this chapter…also, there are many of you who voiced these same opinions in the reviews of the last few chapters, and all I can say is that I am really impressed by your investigative skills!...some answers, and yet a few more questions arise in this chapter…the action heats up…hoping to publish another update in a day or two…this "next day posting" is in response to the gracious patience your kind reviews showed for the last update…hope you will continue to look for clues, as more are being revealed…thanks so much for your reader support…some sadness here, but the anxiety remains high…more soon as I can…all mistakes are mine…take care…Kathy

Standing in the morgue looking over the body, Gil was somber as his eyes took in every aspect of the corpse.

The vest had been rinsed and samples of the materials sent to Trace.

He shuddered as he watched David soberly cut along the seams to remove the garment fully for a closer examination of the body.

The action was not lost on Gil's young friend.

"Perhaps it would be better –" the coroner began what he knew would be a difficult request, only to have the matter taken from his hands as _his_ superior interrupted from the now partially-opened main door, "Gil – you can't be here."

Without turning to acknowledge the appearance of his old friend Doc Robbins, Grissom remained rooted to the spot. "I _am_ here, Al."

"Well," the doctor began in earnest, limping over to grasp the arm of his longtime friend and turn him to come face-to-face, "you are _now_ leaving. Let David handle the preliminaries."

Before Gil could finish opening his mouth to protest, Al added with an upraised hand, "When he knows something substantial, we'll both come back to examine his findings."

David, grateful for the support in asking Grissom to wait somewhere else, added, "Blood has already been sent to the lab for DNA comparison and drug analysis. We should know something definitive when they are done. Perhaps you could-" he petered out, hoping to have planted the seed of an alternative to watching the preliminary post.

"David's right, Gil," Al spoke, adding, "and you know he is."

Nodding slightly, Grissom turned and silently begged David to please hurry with any information.

With that, he moved out of the morgue completely lost in his thoughts.

With the entire nighttime crew engaged in the case, Catherine welcomed Grissom into his old office and soon he was cradling a hot coffee between his trembling hands.

Catherine began without preamble, "Greg is personally overseeing the DNA results…it shouldn't be long."

Gil gulped the hot coffee, wincing at the heat but welcoming the feeling as his insides shook with a familiar anxiety.

"Cath…what if-" he choked out the sentiment, almost afraid to put his thoughts out into the cosmos.

"She's a survivor, Gil," his friend stated quietly, their eyes linking as he set down his cup.

"_You _don't really believe it's her, and neither do _I_," she added as he said nothing.

His head inclined slightly as he shook it.

"Someone's sending a message…only I don't know who or why," Gil spoke softly, recalling that the miniatures once had him over this same barrel.

Slowly, his eyes met Catherine's. "But what if, this time…" his mouth moved further, but no sound came out.

Greg's swift entrance answered that query as Gil noted the guardedness of the young CSI's smile.

"It isn't Sara…not completely…" Greg rushed, causing both of the room's occupants to frown in confusion.

"Well…I mean…" he began again, waiving the printout in his hand, "whoever is down in the morgue _isn't_ Sara, I ran the sample against her profile in CODIS…but our vic _does _have seven allelles in common with Sara and I didn't wait to bring the report because I knew- well. anyway...the computer's still running…I wanted you to know the good news, but it might be a while before we get a definitive match."

Greg hesitated before asking the question to which he already felt he knew the answer.

"So…uh…Sara has a child? A _grown _child?"

Catherine was shaking her head in trying to wrap her head around the evidence before stating, "Or a sister? A younger sister perhaps?"

Grissom remained silent as he tried to piece together this new development.

_A grown child…Sara's child could be 21 or 22 right about now…but how did she get here?...and why would she wind up dead in a lake wearing Sara's vest?_

Relief at knowing that Sara was not lying dead in the morgue flooded his veins, yet the disturbing details of this new development were overwhelming any sense of peace the knowledge held for Grissom.

His phone beeped with a page from David to come to autopsy ASAP.

With eyes locked on Catherine, Gil stood as they both made their way to the door.

"Keep me posted, Greg," he spoke as he neared the open threshold, pausing fully to turn and fumble with,"and…thank you, Greg."

Buoyed by the good news, the coworkers parted and headed towards their destinations.

"Hair weaves," David spoke triumphantly as way of introduction, his smile a welcomed greeting.

Laying down the water spray having finished rinsing off the head and hair of their victim, it was now obvious that indeed intricate braiding had been performed over the entire head.

Not fully comprehending, Grissom asked, "Why would someone wear these? A costume?"

"Of sorts," supplied Catherine. "People who want a temporary change in hairstyle have them woven into their locks to create the illusion of longer hair."

"Or, in this case, longer hair of a different color," David supplied, his hand moving towards the multiple weaves that were placed high up onto the shorter blonde roots of their owner.

"So this person…what?...wanted long brown hair to dress up as a CSI?" asked Catherine in an incredulous tone.

"Or wanted to look like someone with longer brown hair who _was_a CSI," Grissom snapped, angered at the deception and becoming concerned about the reason that someone would go to such great lengths.

"Wait…wasn't Sara's vest reported missing after her attack at the crime scene?" Catherine suddenly asked, looking between the two men with concern now written all over her furrowed brow.

Grissom nodded. In his anguish, he had forgotten that detail.

Grinding his teeth as he looked down upon this swollen mass of tissue, his jaw worked slowly as he realized this person might have played some part in that attack.

"Catherine, call Nick. See if he's been able to contact Sara," Grissom ordered, using a tone which took Catherine aback just a bit before mentally conceding it was after all her purview to contact the people on her shift.

Gsrgsrgsrgsrgsrgsr

As she clicked off her cell and walked down the corridor towards her office, Catherine was unsure whether Nick's failure to find Sara was a good or bad development.

One thing was sure: this case had now become a priority.

As she passed by the office that Sara and Greg shared, the nightshift supervisor slowed to a stop at the sight of Greg sitting at his desk, staring off into space.

Angered at first by his stance while crucial evidence needed processing, as her rather curt questioning was seemingly unheard by the level 3 CSI Catherine now entered the space cautiously and approached Greg who still gave no sign of recognizing her presence.

She took in the scene before her, with her mother's intuition leaving her with an eerie feeling of foreboding.

Reaching out to lay her hand comfortingly on his shoulder, Catherine asked softly, "What is it, Greg?"

For the first time, he turned as if he were shocked to discover her there and forced out, "It's Tessa."

Confused, Catherine tried again as she noted the frame in his hands, the photograph of him and Tessa from their dinner with Philip and Sara.

"Greg…did she contact you?"

Sadly, he seemed to draw into himself more as he only shook his head and whispered, "If only…" as the first tear ran unbidden down his cheek.

Catherine looked towards the door, mentally retracing Greg's last steps when the light went on and she gasped, "Oh, Greg…no…."

That one tear was all he allowed to fall, however many more threatened while his fingers gently traced the contours of his girlfriend's image.

Inhaling deeply, he was about to speak when Grissom entered the room having rushed down the hallway to check on the DNA results.

"Greg!" he asked, his tone showing his surprise at finding them huddled at Greg's desk.

"Catherine?" Gil queried when he received no reply, confused as to what the scene before him was implying.

A deep breath, her hand still on Greg's shoulder for support, and Catherine stood stiffly and said, "We have a confirmation on our vic's identity."

Impatiently, as his thoughts swirled about Sara's safety, Grissom almost barked, "Well?"

Greg pulled the photo to his chest and twisted his desk chair away from the room's other inhabitants.

Catherine met Gil's worried gaze as she stated simply, "It's Tessa Redwood."

Grissom was silent as he moved to sit in the chair at Sara's desk; the implications of that revelation were a shock on too many levels.

His hands unconsciously fumbled with a card lying haphazardly on her desk blotter, and while his mind was racing in overtime, Gil happened to glance at the message on the florist's sentiment.

_Thinking of you, Sarabelle. Sorry we've been playing phone tag. Call me when you get this to let me know you're okay. I'm missing you now that I'm back on campus. Wish I could make you come now. Can't wait to eatyoulater. Love, Philip_

Gil's hands clenched around the note, his anger inflamed at the double entendre of the words.

His eyes flew to Greg, who was now staring at the photo as it sat on the desk before him.

Synapses were flying as known and unknown were rearranging themselves and creating a grim picture in Grissom's mind.

Hands flew to his own wallet, and Gil reached for the folded paper – a copy of the photo of Sara and Philip sent anonymously to him via email in what seemed like another lifetime ago.

"Greg," Grissom rushed, causing the CSI to lock gazes with him.

"Was your picture taken at the same dinner as this?" Gil asked, already weighing the consequences of an affirmative answer.

A wrinkle appeared on Greg's forehead, not understanding the importance of this question in light of his devastating loss.

"Yes. Tessa took your picture, and then Sara took this one."

A calming breath, and then, "Who printed these pictures?"

Sitting a bit straighter as the path down which Grissom was leading him was appearing a bit clearer, Greg closed his eyes in remembering that night before answering, "Tessa. She took Philip's cell phone number and then forwarded the file to his phone."

Silence reigned a moment before Greg was out of his seat, ready to storm the hallway.

"Philip. That _bastard_. If he had anything to do with what happened to-"

"Greg! Calm down!" Catherine spoke up worriedly, barely following the cryptic conversation that the two investigators were having.

"Greg. Do you have a number to reach Philip?"

Shaking his head, Greg couldn't speak as his turmoil boiled over.

"No. But I do know that he phoned Tessa about something he had planned for Sara..." his voice trailed off as he spun around to face Catherine.

"We could subpoena her phone records, Catherine. See who was the last person she spoke with, if Philip called her, if she made arrangements to-" he rambled only to be stopped by Catherine's forceful, "Greg!"

"You can't work this case, Greg. You're too involved!"

It is a remarkable thing how courage floods through a person when they feel as if they have nothing left to lose.

"Just. Watch. Me. Catherine." Greg shocked his boss as his finger emphasized each word into her chest.

Greg's name echoed in the hallway as Catherine continued to call him as she followed him out the door.

Grissom, however, remained immune to that conflict.

He had one of his own.

The first possible suspect in the murder of Tessa Redwood had whereabouts unknown for the last three days.

And the last person known to be in his company was Sara.


	31. Chapter 31

A/N: Just as an aside, this was the first scene written for this story which is based around it, and it has been a long time in coming to light…it contains clues for careful readers, (and for calicsifan07 in thinking about all that came before I hope you will see some loose ends beginning to be tied up)…thanks again and again for the generous reviews…I do have to say that even without all the support, this brainteaser has been fun to write…there is more to come soon as I can…trying to post before our power goes out as yet another storm strikes the waterlogged NE, so all mistakes are mine…take care….Kathy

The late afternoon sun lazed across the couch where she lay asleep with her head in his lap.

His fingers curled through her hair in a soothing motion.

He loved the feel of it softly running through his fingers.

Always had.

And yet he had to be so careful to always wait until she was in an exhausted sleep before allowing himself this pleasure.

Philip's eyes gazed adoringly at Sara's profile, concerned only slightly with the pucker of her lips and the errant frown that would cross her brown before serenity again reigned over her sleeping posture.

A smile threatened to break out over his lips which still stung from that altercation nearly five days ago now.

Yet that had nothing over the later upset that evening.

The doctor's head lolled back against the comfort of the overfilled pillow jutting from behind his head as he closed his eyes to rest.

But the visions continued to haunt him, and sleep was becoming an elusive commodity.

Looking down again at Sara, he realized that all he had endured in his early life had placed him on a companion path alongside this wonderful woman – paths that fate would allow to cross at the most opportune time.

And while his station in life at the time prevented him from truly bearing his heart to her, _he_ had been the one she had turned to in her time of need.

He recalled how Sara had clung to him when she sobbed after signing away the beautiful child the hospital officials had only let her hold for a moment, deeming it "best for all concerned".

She had been determined to move on, yet he himself had a harder time letting go of the thought of Sara's child being all alone in the world, housed by strangers whose involvement and love for this child no one could predict.

Oh, he knew well the kind of existence where you were on the fringe of all that was "important"

Because Philip had lived that life.

_A bastard son born of a longstanding liaison with a summer-home housekeeper that continued after his birth, his father was too rich, too "connected" to have any hint of scandal associated with his name._

_He wondered if his mother had ever really even loved him._

_It seemed from his earliest memories that her doting could be associated with the infrequent overnight visits of the man he soon loved to hate._

_Whenever the man who had sired him was locked away in his mother's boudoir, Philip would take the tailored raincoat and search the pockets for loose change – one day finding a key to the man's life away from this small studio apartment._

_Just after his eighth birthday, he had discovered the man carried a lot of cash – but it was not that treasure that he pilfered from the expensive imported leather wallet._

_No, it was a photograph. _

_A family portrait – his father, a woman who looked fragile and unhappy even to an eight-year-old, and a daughter who was just a bit older than he sitting next to a boy just about Philip's age._

_He remembered slipping that photo from the sleeve that also housed a gold credit card and then darting to his room to hide it under his mattress for later examination._

_Philip smiled as he recalled the excitement of learning he had a sister and brother._

_One day, he vowed he would be bold enough to ask his father for details on his siblings._

_But the visits died down after a few years, and finally Philip was all but taking care of himself as his mother drank herself into oblivion to offset the pain of her cancer._

_She was a bitch to him most of the time, but with the deep need to feel connected Philip loved her despite her faults._

_She was the only family he had ever experienced._

_With the passing of the woman who had given him little while they shared that single-parent home, Philip had found himself in foster care for over six months._

_At the age of fourteen, the tragedy of being unwanted had all but consumed him._

_Yet, as suddenly as that wave of angst began – it ended…with the arrival one day of a shockingly familiar face at the door of his foster home._

_In what Philip would come to learn as his "public face", his father came breezing into the modest home that housed him and two other fosters._

_His lawyers were setting down paperwork and the homeowners were nodding and already speaking of Philip as if he were gone._

_Philip spoke not a word but could only glare at the man whose words made the others comment on his selflessness and charity to the "poor boy"._

_The man returned his glare from time to time, as if challenging him to speak one word of what he knew…_

_But at that point, Philip was just glad to be leaving this place and perhaps find himself with a real home and family._

_For a few weeks, the woman of the house he'd recognized from that picture now hidden in his own wallet spoke little – albeit kindly – to him._

_But Philip had few glimpses of her between the time spent on trips abroad or long weekends in the city._

_His sister, he learned, was his father's favorite, a judgment arrived at by the extravagant lifestyle of a perfectly gorgeous sixteen-year-old._

_She did as she pleased with no regard to inconveniencing others; and her word was law when it came to the household staff._

_Her attitude towards this interloper was that of an intruder who would be wise to stay far away from her at all times._

_Philip was a bright fourteen-year-old and could size up a situation without needing many details._

_It didn't take long to realize it was generally known by the servants that his sister entertained gentlemen in her bedroom suite (some years older than her, friends of her father), and so Philip knew not to enter that floor of the home when she was "out for the evening"._

_For his sister, "NO" was not in her lexicon of accepted responses._

_Yet, his brother had seemed a decent enough chap._

_Seemed he didn't mind sharing the vast array of sports equipment, video games, and later sport cars._

_But he had drawn the line at having Philip attend the same private school as he did._

_After all, his father had told both sister and brother that he was assuming responsibility for an old housekeeper's son who found himself orphaned._

_And this family took care of its own._

_Still, Philip had a reasonably happy high school experience at the city honors high school where he excelled in his studies, hoping secretly to one day really please his father._

_However, that occurred on only one occasion as he could recall; the memory as sweet today as it was when it happened back then._

_Philip's dad harped constantly at his older son about making the grade and keeping the long tradition of Ivy League diplomas in the family._

_More of an absentee father than a role model, nevertheless Philip hit on a plan early in his junior year of high school that was sure to gain his father's approval._

_Just before Thanksgiving in his senior year, Philip was called sharply into his father's study and was surprised to find his brother already there looking nervously at his shoes._

"_Did you do this?" his father had asked sharply as soon as the door was closed behind him._

_Unsure of the problem, Philip was about to protest his ignorance when his eyes fell on the twin envelopes in his father's hand._

_Both bearing the seal of Harvard University._

_With a gulp, Philip stood tall – his anxiety now heightened more on what their response was rather than his father's unusual irritation._

"_Yes, Sir. I-I sent in my application…with my own money," he added, hoping that his father would see the sacrifice made with his approval in mind._

"_Well, then, gentlemen," his father continued in a slightly sarcastic tone,"let's see what the gods have ordained for you both, shall we?"_

_And with that the envelopes were placed in their hands._

_Philip opened his in a rush, scanning past the pleasantries to read: "Philip Wilson, it is our pleasure to welcome you to Harvard."_

_His hands shook as he handed over the correspondence to his father._

_Everything that happened in his life up to that time was forgotten as he watched the man glance up at him before rereading as a smile broke out over his face._

_The older man stood and patted Philip on the back and spoke the words that resounded today in the happy memory of that day: "I'm proud of you, son."_

_Expecting similar results, the man turned to Philip's brother and raised his eyebrows expectantly._

_Reluctantly, the envelope ripped apart and a large red-stamped 'WAIT-LIST' appeared at the bottom of the page._

_There was a moment of calm, as if before the storm._

_Then, "Philip, would you excuse us please?"_

_Opening his mouth to defend his brother, his eyes locked on Ken's as the boy sadly shook his head almost imperceptibly._

_Once the door closed behind him, Philip could hear the tirade begin._

_He waited close to an hour before the sounds of physical abuse ended, and he heard his father swearing that his brother better not move from that spot until 'things were straightened out'._

_The silence of the hallway made eavesdropping easy as he heard his father's mellow tones ask to speak to Richard Pallmeter in the Dean's office._

_When asked by the Dean's secretary as to who was calling, Philip heard his father's cool tones respond, "This is Richard Fuller calling."_

As Sara stirred in her sleep, calling for Grissom in whispered breaths, Philip wiped the tears that he hadn't even known had fallen.

He soothed her back to sleep and breathed deeply to remember how the Fates had led Sara to him.

_Although his father arranged for them to be roommates, Philip's application listed him as 'orphaned' – a status that, coupled with his SAT scores and entrance essay, earned him a free ride to the prestigious school._

_Ken's acceptance was contingent on a new library wing, The Fuller Center for Studies._

_Having met Sara in their freshman year, Philip was immediately smitten but would not allow Ken to know._

_After all, Ken was the BMOC who had garnered a gang that was loyal to him. Or at least to his money._

_He had endured Ken's gutter mouthed discussions of his dates with Sara, most of his tales absolute fabrication as unbeknown to his brother Philip had been there always hovering in the shadows to be sure she was in no real danger from his sex-starved sibling._

_But the weekend the phone call came with the news of the sudden death of his father, Philip had gone home and stayed a month to provide some comfort for his sister who was completely distraught._

_Ken had flown in to attend the public memorial and then jetted back to campus without even attending the reception afterwards._

"I should never have left you for so long, Sara. It really was all my fault that all those terrible things happened to you back then," Philip said softly as his hands continued to weave through her hair.

"But I watched over her for you, Sara. I found out where she was living and who had adopted her."

A sad look crossed his eyes as he continued with such emotion his voice was barely a whisper.

"Then….they _died_, Sara. And she was so young. They took her away to foster care…she stayed there for ten _years_, Sara! I did all I could, even became an office volunteer for the Big Brother organization just so I could have access to her information."

"It wasn't a good set of placements, honey. She suffered, and they sent her to counseling. But the final foster home seemed to be better, Sara," he smiled softly trying to put an upbeat spin on the story.

"There were lots of kids there, and the parents seemed to be unable to say no to one more. Oh, she was happy there, Sara!"

Philip's eyes turned dark as he shook his head and tried to forget the details of the last information he had of the child.

"I am sorry I can never tell you about her, Sara. Even today, it is too painful even for me to think about."

Shifting slightly to bring her deeper into his embrace, Philip looked down at the quiet calm of Sara's countenance.

"But I swear to you, I will protect you from them - just as I have protected you from _her,_" he muttered, a wave of anger washing over him in recalling the events of the last few days.

"And, if you will allow me, I will keep you far away from that bastard of a husband – all he's ever done is hurt you and abandon you, honey…I will never treat you that way…" he spoke on a whisper, smiling as Sara snuggled slightly against his chest with dreams of lazy days in bed cuddling with Gil running through her mind…

Back in Vegas, Gil was storming up the steps to their home, unlocking the door in the fury of a man possessed.

He would tear this place apart to find any shred of evidence to lead him to where Sara was right at this moment.

His heart fell at the sight of her cell phone and charger haphazardly laying alongside their unmade bed which still bore the outlined crush of an overnight bag.

Had she left it there purposefully?

And how would he contact her without it?

His mind was running a million miles an hour as the sound of the front door bell caught his attention.

Hoping it was Brass with a new lead, Gil nearly sprinted across the room and flung the door open to find himself face-to-face with the last person his single-focused mind had expected see.


	32. Chapter 32

A/N: As for the delay in posting, let's just agree that "when it rains, it pours" and leave it at that… hoping to post more again soon…thanks for the great reviews, they really mean a great deal…the tides are turning…are you reading carefully?...all mistakes are mine…take care…Kathy…

"Heather."

No sooner had the words escaped his mouth than he found himself stunned at the realization of being dragged into her embrace.

And despite the totally bizarre nature of this situation, the physical comfort of being soothed by another human being felt…well…_comforting_.

Gil's mind raced to a time not long ago when he would have recoiled from the mere suggestion of being hugged by any woman who was not his mother.

Oh, Catherine had been allowed the briefest access…but after all, she _did_ come to the hospital that day to wish him luck…

No, he reasoned, this ability to accept the comforting act from another person – that was all Sara's doing.

Having lived so long without any real support system, Gil Grissom had faced the world with his chin held high – and his heart shielded from the world.

But his Sara…she had torn down those walls one brick at a time.

_His Sara._

The mere thought of her caused an ache that threatened to overwhelm him again.

Trying to divert his thoughts, he almost smiled at the irony of this situation.

Heather – the only woman who seemed to continually cause problems between them – was here, in their home, offering him comfort.

If only Sara were here to see this happening, he could imagine her reaction…

_If only…_

Thoughts of Sara caused Gil to suddenly retract from Heather's arm and place a good bit of distance between them as he moved to close the door.

Her impassive gaze seemed a bit wary, but then suddenly an ivory-skinned arm reached out to grasp onto his forearm, bringing his eyes to meet hers.

"Gil," she spoke quietly, "can we sit?"

Ever the gentleman, he led them to the living room and helped seat Heather in the center of their comfortable couch.

Her head turned to deposit her purse on the side table; her lanky form returning to a sitting position with the grace of a dancer.

Heather was unable to fully hide her shocked surprise as she eyed the empty place next to her and then back at Gil who had seated himself across the coffee table from her.

Regaining her composure, she leaned forward in an intimate manner and began, "I…um…heard about…Sara."

Gil's brows furrowed slightly, but he said nothing as his mind raced with the innate investigator's questions of who,when,how.

Accepting his silence as permission to continue, Heather leaned further and added, "Gil…what can I do?"

Nonplussed, he nevertheless responded almost casually.

"How did you find out?"

Heather sat back with her legs crossed majestically and shrugged slightly.

"Several people of my…acquaintance…keep informed – unofficially, of course – whenever something occurs that concerns someone I-…someone important to me," she replied.

As his mind instinctively tried to discern who the source might be, Heather leaned forward again and implored, "Gil…what happened to Sara?"

He inhaled sharply as his last encounter with this wife took place no more than a few paces from where Heather now sat.

His angry words echoed in his ears, and he closed his eyes against them, becoming lost in his memories.

"She's gone," was all he spoke.

Before his eyes reopened, there had been a sudden shift in this room.

The feel of Heather's grasp on his hands which were clenched over his knees caused him to startle as she knelt down before him.

"It's alright, Gil," she soothed in a honey-laced voice. "Tell me what you need me to do for you."

Recalling how - during the night he slept over at her home - Heather had offered more than just a warm body to sleep next to in an effort to ease the loneliness of Sara's departure, Gil now quickly stood and put half a room between them before he turned towards her.

His heart ached a bit for this woman who harbored a, well, a sort of, _crush_, he might say, for him, and now looked a bit forlorn at his obvious rejection of her friendship.

He had purposely never led her on, allowing stating _for the record_ that only one woman would ever own his heart.

Yet Heather was resilient and continued to remain in his radar.

Sometimes she reminded him of Sara in that respect.

_After all the pushing and pulling he had done to that wonderful wife of his over their long history, it amazed him still today that she was still with him._

Only, in reality – she wasn't.

_And he had no one to blame but himself._

That thought fueled Grissom back from his reminiscences.

_I need to find her. I need to turn this place upside down until something offers a clue. There is _always_ a clue._

"Heather. I think perhaps you should go. I-I-I have a lot to do," Gil spoke hurriedly as he circled the room and made his way to the door.

He was intercepted at the edge of the entryway by a surprisingly strong grip.

"Gil. You're hurting now. Please. At least I can make some of the arrangements."

_Arrangements? Oh, yeah. Plane tickets. Soon as I get a destination. I know that bastard took her away from here – away from _me_._

_Sara…_

"No need…I-I-I don't really know any of the details yet."

Again, Heather found herself inches from Gil with her wide eyes fixing his with a smile.

"You _can_ lean on me, Gil. I'll be there for you…anything you need."

_I need Sara._

Before Grissom opened his mouth to decline, the sweet chime of a cell phone broke Heather's concentration.

"Wait here, Gil. I'll only be a moment."

Once again folding herself into her recently occupied spot on the couch, Grissom headed to the kitchen to afford her some privacy.

Before turning, he caught a quizzical look on her brow as she read the caller ID.

Turning on the electric tea kettle for something to do more than anything else, his own thoughts distracted him from listening to her hushed greeting, "You call on _this_ phone?"

Searching for some tea bags, Gil opened the bag of his favorite blend and stepped on the trash lever to open the kitchen garbage can.

His mind casually registered a hastily tied smaller bag sitting in the bottom of what otherwise was an empty container.

After a moment, the water was boiling and the shrill tone of the whistling kettle somewhat drowned out her angry response as Heather slammed her phone closed and made her way to Grissom.

Her tone was less empathetic and much more emphatic as she moved into his personal space and almost demanded, "Gil…tell me what happened to Sara."

His brow crunched at her no-nonsense tone before raising an eyebrow and repeating, "I told you, Heather. She's gone."

"Gone…as in _away_?" she asked, almost incredulously.

Nodding his head in the affirmative, Grissom for the first time took in Heather's appearance – and wasn't sure he liked what he was seeing.

"Heather…why all this interest in Sara anyway? I don't mean to offend, but you have to admit she's never been particularly high on your radar," Gil asked in an offhanded manner, causing Heather to swallow with some difficulty.

"I have no interest in Sara, Gil…it's _you_ that has always had my undivided interest," she flirted, but her previous actions now had changed the lenses through which he viewed his 'old friend'."

"Anyway," she began to move towards the doorway, "I really must be going."

Meeting again as his hand pulled open the front door, Heather tried once more to pour on the charm.

"Besides, it was _you_ I came concerned about, Gil. The offer still stands."

She surprised him with a soft kiss planted right on his lips.

"Mmmm…" she moaned softly before her long lashed revealed brown eyes full of intent, "Remember, I'm here if you…_need_…anything."

And with a smile, she turned and left with that air of confidence that was almost a trademark.

After latching the door a moment after her departure, he stood there as his hands moved across the lips where seconds before Heather's own lips were pressed in a gentle caress.

Gil was so unnerved by the encounter that his eyes flew to the door through which she had just departed.

In that moment, his mind screamed at him that there was only one thing to do.

His pulse raced as his feet moved swiftly into motion.

His heart was pounding as within seconds he found himself hovering over their bathroom sink and immediately he began to brush his teeth with the intensity of one wearing sack cloth and ashes.

While he was finishing the final swish of his mouthwash, he turned to deposit the paper bathroom cup into the trash.

But the container wasn't in its usual spot.

_Curious_, he thought and, after turning several revolutions in a futile search, his focus broadened to the bedroom where he eventually found the small basket tossed into a corner of their closet.

_Curiouser_, his mind responded as there was no new bag inserted, something Sara was particularly anal about doing to prevent the possible contamination from their personal products.

"_And curiouser,_" he said aloud, as his feet took him to the kitchen where he retrieved the small bag from the trash.

Lifting it to the counter, Gil's eyes spied another piece of crumpled paper in the otherwise pristine trash container.

Lifting it out, his hands shook slightly as he took care to unfold the crushed paper, and his heart seized as he read the words written in a familiar scrawl: _Gil, I am sorry for the way things ended. I nev "_

He hastily turned the paper back and forth, but there was nothing else written.

_Sara started to write, and decided not to finish? _

_She said she was sorry. _

_Had she changed her mind about that, too?_

His mind raced as his eyes snapped from the crumpled note to the small white trash bag.

His hands dropped the note and all but clawed open the thin, recycled plastic impatiently.

The small litter of cups and facial tissue now surrounded an envelope, seemingly hidden in among the debris.

With shaking hands, he noted that it was from Sara's personalized stationery set - the one he had purchased for her from the rental shop's gift shop in Costa Rica before they went on that moonlit canoe ride during their honeymoon.

His fingers delicately traced the silver embossed "G", recalling how he had teased her that this was an important step in letting the world know she was a "Grissom" now.

A faint smile turned dull as he wondered why he was pulling this envelope out of their bathroom trash.

Worry displaced curiosity, and he steeled himself before opening the envelope slowly to reveal a two paged letter.

The script was much smaller, but the 'chicken scratch' was unmistakable.

It warmed his heart to see it.

He wondered if the message inside would break his heart.

Inhaling deeply, Gil sat at the barstool and read:

_Gil,_

_I hope you know __I __love __you__. I started a goodbye letter just like that a long time ago._

_But I don't want this to be that kind of note. I can't bear to think of never being with you again._

_Philip refuses to let me apologize to you, and so I had to find a way for you to see this note without alienating the only friend I seem to have right now._

_As you are now reading this, I am happy to see your skills developed over the years as lead CSI on the nightshift are as sharp as ever._

_I wish we could be talking face-to-face. I _am so_ sorry I hurt you, Gil, with this terrible secret from my past._

_It has haunted me for years, and was one ghost I could never put to rest._

_I'm sorry that I am not the person you thought I was. I know I have disappointed you. _

_You might even want to divorce me for misrepresenting myself as I was keeping locked away so much of who I really am._

_You are such an amazing man, who could have your choice of any number of amazing women._

_You took a chance on me. And I repaid you with deceit. Now, I have to live with the effects of those actions._

_I meant it when I once told you that you were the only home I've ever known._

_I meant it when I once told you I miss you with every beat of my heart._

_I still do. But I realize there are sins that just cannot be overlooked, let alone forgiven._

_Slutting myself around a college campus and abandoning an innocent child to an unknown life are actions that surround my darkest nightmares. _

_There is no absolution for me for bringing an innocent child into this world to face such uncertainty._

_I know I will never forgive myself. How can I expect you to feel any differently?_

_Philip insists on taking me back to campus for a few weeks. The reunion is happening this weekend, remember I spoke to you about going?_

_This may be a good time for you to let the dust settle and take a breather from the hurt I've inflicted on you._

_I hope that you will call me when you regain some footing from the rug I have pulled out from under your peace of mind._

_I don't expect you to forgive me my deception. But I would cherish the opportunity to hear your voice – at least one last time._

_I will have my cell with me at all times, hoping you will call. Anytime, Gil. I mean that._

_If I were to learn to pray, I would hope you could find it in that big heart of yours to forgive me, and perhaps for us to start over again._

_Yet perhaps even God has his limits._

_Please take care of yourself. Remember, not an hour goes by that you are not in my thoughts, for in all this you are the one person I never wanted to hurt._

_Yours alone,_

_Sara_


	33. Chapter 33

"You _promised_ it was in here!"

Philip stood stone-faced in the doorway to the bedroom as he watched Sara haphazardly tossing every well-packed garment from her suitcase.

Panic seized her as she glanced at her watch.

"Philip! It's been over 36 hours since we left! Maybe Gil…maybe he…" her voice trailed off as her bottom lip quivered.

She grappled with the oversized travel bag as she tossed it upside down in defeat.

Slumping against the closet door, Sara slid to the floor and grabbed her knees to pull them closer to her chest.

Silently, Philip continued to stand in the doorway waiting for their eyes to meet.

Instead, when Sara raised her eyes understanding warred with anger.

"You! You said you would help me. How could you think this would _help_ me?"

Her movements were quick and decisive.

Standing abruptly, her long legs approached the doorway with determined strides.

Literally banging into him to clear the way, Philip steadfastly refused to move.

"Get out of my way, Philip," she warned, only to find herself pulled into his unwanted embrace.

"I said, get away from me, Philip," she tried again, only this time she found herself being pushed backwards until she was seated on the side of the bed so quickly the empty travel case soon joined the heap on the floor.

"Listen to me, Sarabelle," Philip spoke with an authority that made Sara gasp.

But Sara was too angry to accept his domineering without a comment.

"No, Philip. First, you admit to slipping a sedative into my drink and I sleep over 12 hours when we finally arrive here…and now _this_ ?"

But Philip was not backing down.

"Sara…you hardly closed your eyes in the two days we were in Vegas…yes, I felt you needed something to help you sleep. Was it so wrong of me to be worried about you?"

Without waiting for a response, he continued.

"And, yes…I found your phone…AND I left it in that room…honey, you need to make a clean break here," he began only to find himself pushed back onto the mattress by an angry Sara who now loomed over him.

"You. Had. No. Right!" she began, tears welling in front of glaring pupils.

"I did it to protect you, honey…who knows what that bastard would have done to you if I hadn't shown up when I did?"

Her laugh held no humor.

"My _husband_ is a good and decent man. He would _never_ have hurt me! Do you understand that? "I" am the one who did the hurting here, Philip!"

Now he shared in her anger as he pulled himself to his feet and once again grabbed her by the upper arms.

"Sara! He was out-of-control…my god, look at what he did to me simply because I was _there_!-" Philip started but was interrupted by her again.

"I had just told him, Philip…he was angry because I had lied to him…for pete's sake, he just found out he had married a woman he _thought_ he knew, only to find out I never really let him know me at all…" she stopped as the pain of the memory washed over her.

"You. Have. _Nothing_. To. Be. Ashamed. Of." Philip tried as he pulled her struggling against him.

After a few minutes, she calmed and accepted the comfort she was craving as the devastation of losing her husband sank her further into despair.

"Oh, god, Philip," she sobbed, and she accepted his arms around her as she asked, "I don't know what to do now."

"Don't worry about it, Sarabelle…it will all work out. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

After she calmed, Philip helped her back to the couch as he went into the kitchen area of his campus apartment.

"I'll make you some tea, honey," he said sweetly, and kissed the top of her head as he made his way to the kettle, missing the sudden gleam in her eye.

A moment went by before Sara called over her shoulder, "Philip…I think I'll just take a hot shower. I'm pretty jetlagged. "

Glad to see her taking some initiative, he called back, "Fine, honey. I'll check out what's happening at the campus and see about fixing us some lunch."

With that Philip moved to boot up his computer.

Had he been more aware of his surroundings, he would have noticed his cell phone was no longer on the end table next to his keys.

gsrgsrgsrgsrgsrgsr

Gil's eyes were closed but his mind was far too active to sleep.

Once he had reread the note, hope had flourished in his heart – until the reality of finding Sara's phone tossed onto the floor next to their bed brought those hopes crashing around him.

It took a deep breath and some internal counting before Grissom donned the mask of the senior investigator that had ruled his life for so many years.

_Where would she be now?_

Thinking more clearly with her letter held firmly in his grasp, Gil had accepted that Philip had taken Sara back to Cambridge, ostensibly to attend the reunion.

Moving towards his laptop, a few strokes had him logged onto the school's website and clicking on the link for Reunion Agenda items.

Not knowing if Philip would be cocky enough to actually take her to his own apartment, Gil felt it would be best to simply show up at the main reunion dinner/dance and confront them there.

And that is how he now found himself on a plane headed for Boston with a long layover in Chicago.

After the plane touched down, he whipped out his phone and was saddened to find only one missed call.

_Heather._

Sighing loudly, Gil erased the entry and clicked his phone on _silent_ as he made his way through the crowded terminal to get a coffee and a magazine to tide him over until his flight was called.

With any luck, he'd be in Cambridge by 5pm.

And have Sara in his arms by 6.

Settling back against the hubbub of the airport scene, Gil sat facing the windows in the back row of seats next to the gate which announced another hour before departure.

He had plenty to do before they boarded.

He had to figure out exactly how he was going to tell her all that was in his heart.

_That there was nothing _to_ forgive. _

_Her past was just that. _

_He would never, could never, think she was anything more than the selfless, compassionate, giving person he had fallen in love with all those years ago._

Her letter tugged at his heart, her self-loathing eating away at him.

_He needed to help her over the trauma of giving up that child._

_He needed to find a way to tell her that this child over whom she carried the guilt all these years – was now lying dead in the LVPD morgue._

_He needed to help her understand that this death pointed to the real danger that still hovered over Sara._

_He needed to be there – really _be_ there – for her now, recognizing that his own fears had kept him from admitting his worries in the past._

His eyes reopened as he exhaled heavily.

_He needed Sara._

_She completed him as no other person ever had – or ever would._

Suddenly, the clocks seemed to stop moving as his apprehension was causing his pulse to race.

He needed to see her.

His eyes closed again as he began to pray with a sincerity he no longer had thought he was capable of doing.

_If I just can get there before it's too late…_

He sprinted to the desk as the flight attendant began the boarding call.

His last-minute ticket purchase yielded him a first-class seat, and he was grateful just to have gotten a seat.

Most passengers were boarded as Gil's eyes looked without seeing from his window seat.

The bucket seat next to him dipped slightly, but it wasn't until the passenger's long fingers graced his forearm that he became aware of someone speaking to him.

"Grissom?"

Gsrgsrgsrgsrgsr

Sara sat on the floor of the tub allowing the water to stream over her downturned head.

Well, she had done all she could.

Snatching Philip's phone from the end table, she had hoped to call and talk with Grissom in an effort to find out if he had indeed found her message.

Being switched to voicemail told her that he had switched off his cell.

_Probably knew I would try to contact him. He doesn't want to talk to me._

Feeling crushed that her farewell note had not received the reaction she had intended, Sara now had the answer she feared finding.

_It really is over._

She'd never be able to go back to Vegas.

She'd fax her resignation letter and simply forget that once she had a life there.

Without Gil, there was no life.

She had gone through this before, when she first left for the Sea Shepherd.

Still, back then, a small part of her heart hoped that one day she'd get her fairytale ending.

It was the stuff that her dreams were made of.

Yet when he finally appeared, she had thought that it indeed was nothing more than a dream.

And for a while, it had been paradise.

But now, she was living a nightmare.

Philip had been a good friend to her, but she knew that after she attended this silly reunion with him she would have to leave.

Perhaps head south to check out the FBI system in D.C.

Her arms hugged her legs even tighter as the bile rose into the throat.

Who was she kidding?

She could no more start over than she could fly.

There was no drive left to keep her chin up and take those steps down a new path.

She had started those journeys so many times in her past.

She just didn't have the strength in her anymore.

For the first time in a very long time, Sara contemplated the real desperation of people who take their own lives.

Only she knew she could never go through with it herself, thanks to one memory.

_She and Grissom had stood looking over the body of a teenager who was jilted by a girl he cared for and felt that his life was no longer worth living._

_Sara had never seen Gil so closed off, and she attempted to get him to speak to what was bothering him._

_Without raising his eyes off the body, he spoke in angry tones: "This was a selfish act."_

_Confused, Sara had attempted to give the poor boy the benefit of a doubt, but Grissom cut off her speech with anger in his eyes._

"_Selfish, Sara. Sure, his pain is over…but what about those who loved him?"_

"_Maybe…he didn't feel anyone loved him enough to care if he was gone."_

_Wheeling around to fully face her, Gil had reached out to grab her upper arm and spoke forcefully, "Just because they couldn't show him, Sara, didn't mean that they didn't feel the love."_

_Releasing her and turning back to the body, he sucked in a sad breath._

"_He just needed to give them more time. Now…all they have left is the pain."_

Remembering how devastated Gil had acted for that boy's family and friends, Sara knew she could never force him to endure death by her own hands.

Sighing deeply, she wondered just what options tomorrow was going to bring.

Hearing Philip calling to her, she responded that she needed a few more minutes, and sighed deeply again.

Tomorrow would have to wait.

She had made Philip a promise to attend the reunion tonight.

And she was tired of being unable to keep her promises.

She had to get through dinner tonight before she needed to face her uncertain future without the man she loved.

gsrgsrgsrgsrgsr

"What are you doing here, Heather?"

His tone was more than brusque and would have brought a lesser person to their knees.

Instead, Heather just inhaled slowly and smiled.

"I am surprised to see you here, Gil. Heading east wasn't something I'd expect from a man whose _wife_ was suddenly…_gone._"

His brows furrowed but she didn't give him time to respond.

Settling back in her comfortable seat, Heather smiled his way and said, "I myself am heading to a family affair…a tradition of sorts."

Seeing as he hadn't returned her call, she smiled and said, "I did call to tell you I was going out of town, but to call my cell if you needed anything."

Remembering her name on his display, Gil relaxed a bit as he nodded and settled back in his own seat.

"I take it this is a business trip? Connected to a big case?" Heather fished, but Gil was not biting.

"Why would you say that?" was his only response, and again she managed to surprise him with her observations.

Glancing overhead, she noted, "One small carryon with no ID tags– tells me this was an unexpected trip."

Leaning coyly towards him, she whispered, "If you were spending time away with your loved one, I'd expect a bit more planning – _and_ luggage."

The flight attendant came and offered drinks which Gil refused but Heather readily accepted.

Despite his attempts to dissuade her, Heather continued to interact with him throughout the three-hour flight.

At their parting, Gil was surprised at Heather's grasp turning him to face her completely.

"I'll be in town for a few days, Gil. Call me anytime. I'm here for you if you need me."

And with that a limousine driver opened the door for her with a practiced hand as she disappeared within its depths.

His shoulders straightened with more determination than ever, Gil hailed a taxi and directed the driver to the address of the hotel he had booked which was mere blocks from the site of the reunion dinner/dance.

He pulled out his cell phone to contact the hotel and was pleased that that tuxedo rental he had arranged had arrived and had been placed in his suite.

Having ended the call, his brows furrowed at the missed call notification as no message had been left from the _private number_.

His heart hoped it was Sara trying to contact him.

_I'm on my way, honey._


	34. Chapter 34

A/N: Thanks for the reviews and to all those who put this on their Favorites List…another corner is turned…the story is far from over…I look forward to your comments…more when I can…glad you are still enjoying this story…take care…Kathy

The music was softly flowing through the opened doors of the oversized banquet hall adjacent to the library building.

Billowing silken canopies of shimmering ivory suspended below the skylights in the cathedral ceiling created an open-air effect that was breathtaking.

Muted lighting along the edges of the dance floor was highlighted by tastefully-fashioned garden flower arrangements.

What caused the most surprise for the room's occupants, however, was the introduction of hundreds of butterflies among the large potted plant life that lined the interior walls.

And for one attendee, the sight was almost her undoing.

"A rainforest," Sara whispered as her feet seemed to work without her knowledge.

"Oh, Sarabelle…it's beautiful…does it really look this incredible in person?" Philip gushed, his hand tightening around her waist as his eyes continued to take in their surroundings.

If it hadn't been for his firm grip holding her to his side, Sara surely would have bolted.

They moved slowly into the expanding crowd as she couldn't help but look skyward at the amazingly clear view of the northeast sunset occurring outside this fantasyland.

Philip strutted proudly into the room; his dream of someday arriving with this remarkable woman on his arm was finally coming true.

Nodding and smiling to well-recognized faces, his chest puffed out a bit as he held Sara to him a bit possessively.

She, however, was already planning her escape.

Couples were dancing to the nine-piece band as some were milling about from table to table engaging in handshakes and hugs.

The doors to the library had been left wide -opened, and Sara couldn't help but recall the many hours of sanctuary she had spent in those walls.

Philip led them to a table which thankfully had not been claimed as of yet.

"Sarabelle, can I get you something to drink?"

Ian's warnings suddenly flashed across her mind, and the thoughts of Gil's concerned gaze following his admonition caused Sara's throat to tighten.

Feeling as if she no longer had anything left to lose, however, her head nodded as she locked eyes with Philip and said, "Double scotch."

The smile fell from his face, but her gaze was firm.

Nodding slightly, he muttered, "As you wish," before heading towards the bar area.

Sitting was making her nervous, so Sara stood to walk closer to the small indoor pond complete with rippling waterfall.

The sense of smell can provoke strong memories, and the hint of perfume from the floating gardenia blossoms caused a tear to spring up in Sara's saddened eyes.

She recalled standing alongside the ponding water under the large waterfall near their base camp as the night sky was mirrored in the shimmering coolness collecting below the powerful cascades.

For a second, her breath hitched as she suddenly felt a strong arm encircle her waist from behind.

_Could it be?_

The next second, however, she was feeling another hand slipping past her waist to garishly try to separate her legs, gripping one high up on her thigh.

She struggled in the shadows against this intruder, but her movements ceased as a hot breath taunted in her ear, "Miss me?"

Somewhere from deep within, training overshadowed her shock, and Sara placed an elbow against the sternum of this monster, causing him to retract his hold on her.

Spinning around, she raised her hand to land a hard slap across this arrogant face.

She was no match for his strength, and soon Sara found her hands both held prisoner behind her back as she was pressed full front against this bully.

"C'mon, Sara. You know you always liked it rough."

Despite her attempts to dissuade him, his lips latched onto hers roughly.

When she felt his tongue forcing its way inside her mouth, she knew she was in trouble.

Suddenly, her body nearly fell backwards as she was released unceremoniously while her ears heard the low growl of her savior.

"What the _hell_ do you think you are doing?"

"Well, well, well…brother dear…finally developing a _backbone_, are we?"

Ken Fuller was pulling on his cuffs to straighten his appearance, almost laughing at the pitiable sight of Philip's stunned expression.

"Broth-…" Sara spoke in a whisper, shaking her head in denial as her gaze moved from Ken to Philip.

Philip reached for her, but Sara backed away as her brow furrowed and she glared at him.

Pushing at his chest in much the same way as street gangs do when fighting for dominance in a situation, Ken regained his brother's attention as he continued to ridicule his gentler sibling.

"I see you've managed to procure some…_entertainment_…for me tonight, Phil. But then, you were always really good at that," he smirked, his eyes turning to devour Sara's lanky form.

Shaking her head, Sara was sure this must be another nightmare.

The feel of Ken's hand gripping her upper arm soon led her to understand she would not be waking up from this horror anytime soon.

The appearance of two towering hulks surprised the trio, effectively blocking Ken from further engaging Sara in his grasp.

Sara's hand flew to her mouth as she saw each bodyguard latch onto and separate the two men nearest to her to reveal the last person she expected to encounter here this evening.

Walking up to Ken, Heather's firm hand made contact with his stunned countenance.

"_You_…will _not_ do this _here…" _she spoke with a glare before Ken turned his head down in submission, his hand rubbing the cheek still stinging from his sister's fury.

"_This night_ we are here to honor the memory of our father. And I will not have _you_ or _anyone_ tarnish this tribute to him. Do I make myself clear?" she seethed at Ken.

Turning to Philip, her look seemed to soften slightly before she stated, "Is this understood?"

Sara's eyes widened as both men spoke humbly in unison, "Yes."

Heather's slight tilt of her head signaled the bodyguards to retreat and within seconds the four of them stood alone in the privacy of the shadowy cove.

Before Sara could thank Heather for her rescue, the dominatrix turned on her and spoke in tones that held her unmistakable loathing.

"I see you continue to create problems wherever you go, Sara," her words delivered with a particularly venomous tone.

"I _had_ thought that once you had experienced the horrors out in the desert, you would have learned that lesson and…just disappeared."

Moving into Sara's personal space, Heather continued coolly, "And yet, you returned and made him feel sorry for you. Again. So sorry, in fact, that you guilted him into marrying you."

The words struck a chord with Sara, as she still carried that specter of regret for being the cause of Gil giving up his illustrious career to follow her to the rainforest.

Shaking her head in a pitying gesture, Heather's haughty laugh was almost Sara's undoing.

"And after all that – you run off to be with _Philip_."

Turning a scathing glance at the man, Heather smiled deviously, "Well, you two are certainly well-suited for each other. After all, Sara, could _you_ do any better than a live-in shrink? How utterly cosmic!"

Philip began to protest, but was silenced by Heather's menacing glare.

Also stunned into silence, Sara could only wait as Heather yielded the final blow.

"Do you really think Gil will just leave his home and follow you now, Sara? Do you really think he even _cares_ where you are now?"

As Sara's eyes fell, Heather positioned herself directly before her and dove in for the kill.

"_Leave,_ Sara. Take your little bag and grab a taxi and just get the hell away from us. We don't _want_ you here. We don't _need_ you here."

Reaching out to force her chin upwards, Heather glared at Sara whose tears had begun streaming down her flushed cheeks.

"Leave _now_, Sara, and don't look back. _No one_ wants you here, Sara. You only cause trouble and heartache for the people who care for you. Who would _possibly_ want _you_ and all your _baggage _around to complicate their life?"

The ensuing silence lasted a mere second before behind them came the reply.

"I suppose that would be _me_."


	35. Chapter 35

There was a pause the length of a heartbeat before Heather whirled around with a startled expression.

"Gil," she spoke on a breath, "this…this isn't what it seems."

She glided forward, blocking Grissom's view of his wife whose continued silence seemed to be worrisome to him alone.

Placing her hand firmly on his forearm, Heather smiled softly and began to speak in a most conspiratory tone.

"You didn't tell me you were coming _here…_to meet _her_…" she started, but was soon sucking in a startled breath as Gil all but ripped himself from her grasp.

In an unusually even tone, he replied, "Why else would I travel across the country, Heather, but to spend this beautiful evening at this reunion with _my. wife_."

His emphasis on those words made Heather blink hard.

"Gil," she tried again, but by this time Grissom had heard enough and moved around Heather's sultry form to approach Sara.

He found his way blocked by Philip.

Instinctively, his fingers locked into a fist that Grissom was finding very difficult to keep at his side.

"You. Will. _Not_ –" was all Philip was able to say before the two bodyguards returned and pulled the psychologist to the side with little regard to kindness.

Gil found himself staring down the other guard who was glaring menacingly at him.

Not to be deterred, he was calculating the exact moves needed to clear the path to where Sara still remained unmoving when suddenly a cheerful voice from behind their shadowed cove broke through the tension.

"Heather, my dear! Ken! We really should think about joining the members of the committee to begin tonight's commemoration!"

Jovially, the Dean wrapped his both hands around Heather's hand and rubbed hers delicately between his.

"My dear, your hand is like ice! We must get you into the library and perhaps warm you with a glass of champagne," the tall man charmed as he pulled her hand to his side through to his flexed elbow.

"Ken! Come along, we wouldn't want you to miss the memorial presentation!"

The bodyguards moved to flank the Dean as he escorted Heather and an unwilling Ken towards the speakers' dais.

Leaving Grissom to confront a stewing Philip.

"If you think you are going _anywhere_ with her, _Grissom_," Philip spat as he moved to wrap his arm around Sara.

Imagine his shock when she pulled away from him as if she had been burned.

"Sara?" Philip whispered, his eyes evidencing the pain of her abject rejection.

Shaking her head, it was all she could do to look at him.

"What is it, honey?" Philip tried again, so forlornly concentrated on Sara's reaction that he failed to see the same narrow-eyed reaction on Grissom to the term of endearment.

Matching his steps in retreat as he continued to move towards her, she scoffed, "His _brother?_ You are _Ken's. Brother.? _And, what…you didn't think that little detail was _important_ enough for me to _know_?"

Her retreat found her backing up directly into Grissom, whose arms instinctively reached out to grasp her waist and pull her towards him protectively.

"Sara…honey…I can explain it…_all_ of it…please," Philip begged, but by now Sara had turned away from him into the safety of Gil's embrace.

Grissom reveled in the feel of her in his arms, something he feared he deserved to never feel again.

Hanging his head slightly, Philip's attention was turned to the amplification of the speaker's podium where the Dean was calling for the attention of all the attendees.

His lip curled as he watched Heather take the podium to address the crowd…yet her eyes seemed glued to the movements of one person in the crowd.

"Each year, during this alumni gathering, we take the opportunity to remember a man whose philanthropy and generosity was not confined to his devoted family," she began as Philip snorted quietly at Heather's portrayal of her womanizer father and at Ken's socially obligatory acquiescence.

Her speech had been designed to sing the praises of the man whose money was donated to keep the "annals of recorded knowledge preserved for present and future generations of analytic minds".

Again, knowing that this "magnanimous gesture" had been nothing more than a bribe to ensure Ken's admittance as a legacy to this institution, Philip sneered openly albeit privately as he leaned back into the shadows.

Her prepared speech had been lengthy and would have included the traditional toast to her deceased parent.

Instead, seeing Grissom making his way through the mass of formal attired couples, Heather suddenly- and unexpectedly- turned the microphone over to "this man who was also proud to call him 'father'" – leaving Ken to gawk with widened eyes before moving to the microphone and composing himself before reiterating his sister's comments.

By the time most participants had a glass raised to toast the memory of Richard Fuller, Gil was leading Sara through the billowed-curtained entryway.

His steps were halted as Heather suddenly appeared before him, and Gil was forced to come to an abrupt stop or risk bodily slamming into the clearly unnerved woman.

"Gil…we really need to talk," she said, standing regal and determined before him.

"I'm taking my wife and leaving here, Heather," he spoke calmly, but clearly brokering no argument.

"Gil," Heather spoke now as if to a child, "what is the rush? The night is young, and there is much to say."

Ignoring Sara totally, she continued, "I enjoyed our traveling together very much. I hoped that we might be able to…_see_…each other…and some of the best that this city has to offer."

Shaking his head, for the first time Grissom could finally see the attitude that had made Sara so insecure when it came to his 'relationship' with Heather Kessler.

"My god, Heather. My _wife_ is standing less than a foot in front of you…and you're _making overtures_ towards me?" Gil asked in a quietly incredulous tone.

"Gil…I am trying to be a friend to you…to help you to see-"

Her words were cut off by Grissom's full body turn away from her.

As she watched him grip Sara by the waist and pull her alongside him, Grissom spoke softly to his wife, "C'mon, honey. The night is young, and you look so beautiful tonight. Let's take a walk around campus before we head back to my hotel. I have a lot of things I want to say to you."

Without another word to Heather, Gil moved to sidestep around her but was stunned when he felt Sara being tugged out of his grasp.

"You! This is _your_ fault! _Poor Sara_…poor lonely, pathetic Sara…always needing rescue..." Heather sneered as she invaded Sara's personal space.

Before she could continue, Gil was tugging on his wife's arm in an attempt to remove her from Heather's vile expressions.

Suddenly, Sara found herself in a bizarre tug-of-war as Heather refused to release the tight hold she had on Sara's forearm while the venom continuing to spew uncensored.

"You don't deserve him…you don't deserve what he has to offer…you're just a pathetic little excuse for a woman…" she chided as Gil now tried to pry Heather's hands from Sara's arm.

"There's no room in this world for someone so worthless, so _forgettable_…no wonder my brother used you like some little _nothing_, Sara…and when he was done with you, he tossed you aside like the trash you are-"

"Enough!" Grissom groaned loudly as he finally released Sara's shaking form from her attacker's grip.

Heather was now as Gil had never seen her – or perhaps he _was _seeing her, the real Heather, for the first time.

The comparison flooded him with adrenaline, as flashbacks to the many times he had defended her to Sara now caused him considerable heartburn.

Totally incensed, Heather unrelentingly moved towards Sara again despite the fact that Gil attempted to keep her safely behind him.

"You should have _died_ under that car, Sara…" Heather whispered loathingly as she looked directly into Sara's eyes, and not even Grissom's surprised inhalations stopped her taunts.

"You won't be so _lucky_ next time."

With that, Heather found herself pushed outside the hall and backed up against the rough surface of the marble pillars by Gil's strong grasp of her upper arms.

"Do. NOT. Threaten. My. Wife." Grissom intoned with a steadiness that revealed little of the blazing inferno ready to surface at any moment.

Heather laughed caustically as she sneered back at this man who had consumed her thoughts oh these many years.

"So…you're threatening _me_, are you, Grissom? Really, Gil, by now you should know that there's precious little you can do to really _harm_ me," she spoke seductively.

As she leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "But…if you really want to play rough-" and her laugh echoed in the night air as Gil abruptly released her, shaking his head in disgust.

If that hadn't been enough to inflame his anger, as Grissom turned to take Sara's hand he found himself whirled around and suddenly pulled tightly into Heather's arms with her lips firmly pressed against his.

He was so shocked by this action that it took him one very long moment before he could wrap his head around what was happening and push Heather off his body.

"Don't. EVER. Do. That. Again." Gil warned with blazing eyes as Heather threw her head back and laughed.

"That was just a taste of things to come, Gil. There's _plenty_ more to be had, and you won't rest until you've had it…_all,_" she purred as she ran her fingers suggestively over her lips which still stung from their abrupt parting.

"I know you, Grissom. Better than you know yourself," she continued to taunt.

He turned from her, but she kept moving behind him.

"And one day soon, you'll be freed from this pathetic excuse for a marriage. Then, well…you know where you can find me."

Grissom refused to reply and grabbed Sara's hand to move them down the stairs and onto the sidewalk of the college campus, the sound of Heather's mocking laughter ringing in his ears.


	36. Chapter 36

The sounds of angry breaths were accompanied by the soft sound of the reunion band's tones becoming slightly softer with each determined stride away from the library steps.

Both Sara and Gil had not uttered a word as he clenched her hand possessively in his grip and pulled her down the shrub-lined sidewalk.

When they reached the monument, he had paused only slightly then picked up the pace onto the path to the right which led down to the lake.

Furtive glances were the only real indicator of their curiosity as to what the other was thinking.

Gil's occasional look made his heart flutter as he wondered just how much Heather's horrible actions would impact Sara's reaction to his planned soul baring.

Sara's discreet looks made her own heart flutter as her mind reeled over the strength of his protectiveness in defending her against the venom that Heather had spouted against her.

Especially since Sara herself found those words difficult to refute.

Not for the first time in the last few weeks had Sara also wondered if perhaps everyone would have been better off if she had-

The thought was interrupted by Gil's sudden stop, and his reaction to her plowing into the side of him as he deepened his already strong hold on her hand.

The force of her forward motion being stopped now propelled her sideways – into a bone-crushing embrace.

Gil's mind had been replaying the encounter with Heather and her final comment made him unable to take another step.

"_You should have died under that car, Sara."_

He held her tightly to him, not caring if she might protest and thanking the heavens when she didn't.

The anguish he had suffered during that time was fodder for his occasional nightmare, and even now he knew that unless he was wrapped tightly around her the fear born from that time would occasionally resurface to incapacitate him.

"Sara," he breathed, and she noticed the hitch in his voice.

"I'm sorry…so, so very sorry…" was all she could force out before her voice was commandeered by gut wrenching sobs.

He held her tightly to him, eyes shut as the joy of her in his arms warred with the heartache of the convulsive sounds of her tears.

Yet, he remained silent; his attempts to provide her the needed reassurance fought for dominance over the necessity of his own painful professions of contrition.

He once again was unsure of what to say to her, reminiscent of all those years of avoidance to the truth of his love for this remarkable woman.

_Those wasted years…._

That thought spurred him into action, as suddenly Sara found his grip loosened only to allow his kisses to pepper her tear-stained cheeks, her temples, her forehead, her watery eyelids – whatever surface presented itself to the onslaught of his loving actions.

"Sara…" he'd whisper and continue his kissing until breathing demanded priority, "Sara…"

"No," she'd tried once to pull away, knowing that her past transgressions could not possibly be so easily forgiven despite his attempts to profess his desire for her.

"Sara…" he pleaded before pulling her towards him and kissing her with such force as to literally make her knees weak.

Feeling her crumble before him, Gil released her lips and swooped down to lift her almost effortlessly into his arms.

Turning his head only slightly, he cradled her against him as he moved them along the sidewalk to stop their movement before the granite gateway leading to the lake nearby.

The flat surface was wide enough and of sufficient length as to support her body, although her legs dangled slightly off the end.

The ornate surface sloped upwards gently before it ended in a slight plateau well above the area where Sara's head was being gently reclined.

She found herself calmed by the action, her eyes still watery but some semblance of control was evident.

Gil placed himself between her knees which he inched apart so as to now stand before her with a look of true penitence.

"I am sorry I walked out on you that day… it was cowardly, it was…it was everything I've regretted since coming to my senses," he began, and Sara could see the war raging behind his sorrowing eyes.

"Gil-" she protested but he grabbed onto her hands and moved towards her, his shadow now creeping over her chest as he leaned closer.

"You…you've done nothing but love me, Sara…nothing but look the other way despite the years of my treating you so terribly…and yet…and yet somehow you still managed to love me…and, I hope, _continue_ to love me-" he broke off when the emotions were threatening to choke him.

She shook her head, trying to disagree with his appraisal of their history, but he panicked as he misread her movements.

"_Please_, Sara…when I married you - oh god, when I married you," he closed his eyes for just a moment as the memories flooded over his thoughts, urging him on, " I promised to love you and stand by you…and I promised I would never leave you…and what have I done since the day I've gotten everything I never dreamed I deserved?"

He knew he was rambling now and moved to stand straighter, but her hands clenched his and he remained hovering over her, his eyes held prisoner by her attentive gaze.

Placing his palms on the granite surface which had cooled in the night air marked by a full moon, Gil was now almost face-to-face with this woman whom he loved.

"I've done just about the opposite of what I promised you that I would do!" he said with such self-loathing that Sara instinctively reached up to him only to have him dodge her comforting hand.

"I've left you to go halfway around the world, reducing our _marriage_ to something akin to ships in the night! I've left you, knowing how you still are battling those demons that haunt your sleep and cause you such pain."

His breath was thready as he continued, " I _knew_ all this, honey. I _knew_ you were in pain – and I took the coward's way out and I let you alone…when the last thing you needed was to _be_ alone."

Gil reached out and scooped up Sara in his arms as he rubbed her back and held her so close she could feel his heart racing.

"You couldn't know," she spoke reassuringly, but Gil cut off any added words of comfort as he pulled back and looked her squarely in the eyes.

"But I _did_ know," he countered, "oh, honey, I know a _lot_ of things."

This turn of phrase piqued her interest, making Sara stare into his eyes to see the honesty of that statement.

"What _else_, Gil? _What_ do you know?" she asked with an equally honest stare.

He hadn't planned on discussing this now. He hadn't really _made_ a plan to discuss it.

Yet the opportunity now presented itself, causing Gil to breathe deeply before forcing the sound from the depths of his despair.

"I know…how it feels to lose a child."

Sara at first kept the open expression she had donned when he began talking.

Soon, her face closed off and Gil felt her body tensing which caused him to hold onto her in a tighter embrace.

"So…." Sara glared at him, mocking tones emitted from her quivering lips, "you've fathered a child…and, what? She left you and took the child from you, and now you think that makes you an expert in the personal hell that I went through?"

Before she could spin herself up anymore, Gil pulled her closely and kissed her temple before whispering softly in her ear, "No, Sara. No. That's not what I am saying at all. Please. _Please_ - listen to me."

There was no reason she could think of to deny him, although the thought that he had sired a child by another woman was an open wound for her as she recalled their child that was miscarried because of her desert ordeal.

When he felt her relax, he decided that he'd never finish this if he had to look into her eyes.

Holding her tightly, he steeled himself and began to speak while rubbing his hands gently in a soothing motion over her back.

"We didn't know," he started all the while willing his voice to stay strong, "we didn't even know we had conceived a child."

Sara nodded softly against him, wishing she had the nerve to unburden herself from the truth she had concealed from him all these years.

"And then, in the hospital, she had suffered a miscarriage – without being fully aware that it had occurred."

Again, Sara swallowed with difficulty as she recalled with great accuracy the sights and sounds that surrounded the OB doctor on call as he entered her room to deliver the devastating news to her.

"I'm sorry," was all Sara could say, knowing the pain she had experienced which even now resurfaced in her lowest moments. This pain and she were old friends, and now Sara hugged him tighter, wishing she could do something to help alleviate the same pain Gil was feeling after all these years.

"So am I, honey…because, you see, I wasn't really supposed to know this had occurred to her," he started only to interrupted by her protest.

"But…this was _your_ child, Gil…you had every right to know!" she defended him, and was outraged that anyone would bar him from the knowledge – even as she missed the parallels to her own actions.

"Well…you see…we weren't married…and, not being next of kin-" but again Sara rose to his defense.

"But you were this child's father!"

She pulled back to look into his eyes, and he could see the compassion she was feeling for him.

He couldn't help but smile sadly as he moved a slight rogue curl behind her ear before continuing.

"Sara, honey…" he inhaled, "she was too medicated to know; she had been through quite an ordeal."

At this, Sara could only nod with some sympathy; recalling the hellish hospital stay after being found in the desert, she felt some kinship to the poor woman.

She hated herself for it, but needed to ask: "Did…did you love her?"

He was quiet for a moment, deciding on answering truthfully despite the possible consequences.

"I still do."

Neither exhaled a breath as time seemed to stand still.

Ever the investigator, Sara stood unmoving as she replayed the entire conversation in her mind.

He realized with a loud exhale the exact moment she had put all the pieces together.

Gil refused to release her fully, but allowed her to bolt backwards to glare at him as her eyes swept over his unmoving stare.

"You…_knew_?"

He had expected many reactions from Sara – but had not prepared himself for this turn of events.

"Sara? _You_ knew?" he asked with a voice that was raised defensively.

She tried to lower her head, but found his strong grip pull her chin upwards until they were breathing each other's air.

"I-I-I just…couldn't…," she shook her head as her eyes watered before returning his powerful gaze, "it was just too much…you were hurting so much…_I_ had hurt you so much between disappearing in the desert and-"

His kiss was strong and she melted into the needed warmth.

Pulling away, his forehead pressed hers as he said, "Stop, Sara. Just stop. What happened to you…_you _didn't do this…stop blaming yourself, honey."

She tried to speak but he was relentless.

"It was all Natalie, Sara. The desert, the kidnapping," pulling her chin upwards again, "losing our child – honey, that was all Natalie. I could never blame you for that."

Holding her tightly as he felt his own tears trailing down his cheeks, his voice cracked as he whispered into her ears, "I _would. NEVER._ blame you for that."

They held each other and together they cried for their child, the catharsis of finally being able to share their grief overwhelming them.

"Oh…Gil…our baby," Sara sobbed as Gil kept his arms wrapped around her, feeling for the first time as if she was really facing the loss of their child.

"I know, honey. It's been too hard not being able to talk with you about losing such a precious gift, Sara," he spoke in barely a whisper as Sara continued to release the torment she had kept locked inside for so long.

"But I don't blame you, Sara. Never. Not for one moment. Natalie wanted to hurt me, by taking away the one person I swear to you has been the only person I have _ever_ loved."

Grissom continued with an angered ferocity, "And in doing so, she hurt _you _and_ our child_…oh, Sara…because of _me," _and with that all the anger he had endured bubbled to the surface.

Unable to prevent the release of more emotion, Gil sneered, "When I went to her hearing, the first time I saw her I kept my hands clenched by my side because I knew if I got close enough to her I just might-" he stopped and closed his eyes to rein in the images of retribution he had conjured up.

Breathing deeply, Gil suddenly calmed and looked deeply into Sara's eyes before asking the question that had plagued him since his departure from CSI.

"Sara…I think, that is, I've always wondered if…your discontinued therapy sessions…are you having trouble dealing…I mean…" he looked so forlorn, she wanted to reach out to him before he suddenly blurted out, "Sara…I know I am the reason you can't seem to make the therapy work for you!"

"What?" she gasped, but he continued to rant as he raked his hands through his hair.

"Sara…you must feel trapped…that's it, isn't it?...I came after you, and you felt as if you made a mistake that you couldn't change…that's it, isn't it?...I mean…how can you forgive me for being the reason you were _tortured_ and left to _die_ – for being the reason our baby is _**dead**_?"

Stunned by his bluntness, Sara could only focus on those words: _the reason_ _our baby is dead_.

His heart stung as she pulled herself from his grasp and took a step back from him.

In true interrogator style, she answered his question _with_ a question.

"Gil…how can _you_ still want to remain married to _me_, to forgive _me_ for not telling you about giving birth _at 16 _to a child I abandoned to be raised by god-knows-who? Heather was right, Gil, in _everything_ she said tonight. So how can you live with someone who was such an emotional basketcase as to slut around this campus-"

She gasped as his hands clamped around her upper arms.

"Stop it, Sara! I won't listen to this anymore! You are _not now_ nor have you _ever been_ ANY of those things!" he demanded before realizing his stance and releasing her to turn and pace a distance away from her.

Her hands moved instinctively to wrap themselves around her in familiar fashion, only she paused as if suddenly realizing for the first time that the action was unnecessary.

She recalled the last therapist's admonition: "You're still keeping secrets, Sara, and that makes you push everyone away. Remember, being alone is worse than being hated."

In this moment, for the first time in her life Sara truly felt as if she were _not_ alone.

_Gil was here sharing her pain over the desert ordeal. Truth be told, they spoke more about Natalie at this juncture than they did in all the weeks following her rescue when they worked to spare the other further pain – only to each add to their distress._

_Gil was here sharing her pain over the loss of their child. For the first time, Sara felt as if she could breathe deeply without always having to censor her thoughts and ramblings so as not to uncover her knowledge of the miscarriage._

_Gil was here sharing his fear that she was unhappy in their marriage, a marriage he seemed desperate to maintain because he loved her._

_He loved her!_

Her exhilaration at this epiphany was short-lived by Gil's next words.

"I'm sorry, Sara. I can't do this anymore."

She was about to start pleading with him when he moved towards her so quickly she didn't have time to flinch as he grabbed her into his arms and pressed her to him.

"We can no longer live with this doubt that you have concerning your past. Sara, it's your _past! _We can't change it, but we can try not to repeat it. We can't allow it to rule our lives anymore! I won't allow it, do you hear me?"

He kissed her with such tenderness that the tears leaked from beneath her lashes and still he would not surrender her lips.

When he finally released her, she smiled slightly at him with a look so loving that it made his heart quiver.

"Gil…take me home," she said as she started to move towards the sidewalk, but stopped with a quizzical look at the site of his troubled countenance.

"No, Sara…we need to talk."

Moving towards him, her hands moved up his chest and around his neck while she hugged him as tightly as his own arms recriprocated.

"I love you, Gil. I heard everything you've said. But I can't talk about this anymore. I'm so very tired, Gil. I just want to go back to your place and snuggle up beside-"

She stopped as she felt him release her and turn away from her.

Hurt must have shown in her eyes as he turned back towards her but refused to look in her direction.

"Sara…there's still something else…" he paused before adding, "Honey, there's something I have to tell you."


	37. Chapter 37

A/N: I thank all of you for your patience as I sort out a family situation…I do know your reviews are so welcomed and really help to refocus some good energy into my day…I promise the next chapter is already formed in my mind, GSR is a promise, and the next chapter is close at hand - but this cliffhanger is sure to inspire some interesting reviews as readers take a guess as to the identity of the mystery party…more clues are laid as the backstory continues to emerge…I promise to post in a day or two if not sooner…thanks for the incredible reader support for this story…take care…Kathy

"You _bitch!"_

"Well, well, well…taking a breather from your _slumming_ of the past few weeks, brother dear?"

Had there not been so many people enjoying the warm evening outside the lavish entryway to the library's community room, Philip would certainly have decked her for that comment.

"Why did you let her leave with him, he's poison to her, can't you see that?" his continued rant was only halted by the sound of her mocking laughter.

"Oh, dear _brother_, haven't you had your fill of Ken's hand-me-downs yet?"

Philip reeled back as if she had slapped him physically.

"Don't. Start." he protested, but Heather easily saw through his façade.

Sighing dramatically, she turned her body towards the path down which Gil had recently retreated.

"Such a fine figure of a man," she smiled cruelly before her face crumpled angrily, "wasting his time on such trash."

At that, Heather found herself spun around to face an seething Philip.

"You. Are. Such. A. _Bitch_, Heather," he repeated as he invaded her personal space menacingly.

Yet Heather remained calm as she raised her own hand to run it softly through Philip's hair.

"I seem to remember one time, shortly after Father died, when you didn't feel that way about me, Philip darling," she mocked as she felt him stiffen and pull away.

"You manipulated me, Heather…I haven't forgotten," he turned with an angry blush rising upwards from his neck across his cheeks.

"You wanted it to happen, don't deny it," she whispered haughtily in his ear before turning back to the path leading from the building, "and, often, I've found that some people _protest too much…"_

She was startled by the sound of mocking laughter coming from behind her.

Turning, her anger ignited as she spied the smug look on Philip's face.

"Oh, Heather…give it up. That man has eyes for only one woman," he spoke inclining his head towards the path before leaning in to snap, "And. It. Isn't. _YOU._"

Philip was startled when Heather's handprint was slapped harshly against his cheek.

"_No one_ tells me what I can or cannot have, do you hear me?" she growled, "especially some little nothing like Sara. Sidle."

Philip felt emboldened by his anger and taunted, "Sara has his wedding ring, Heather. He chose to marry her. He took her to his bed, Heather. He takes her every time their together, I bet."

Moving closer he noticed Heather's eyes were slightly unfocused, and Philip smiled as he knew his words were creating hurtful images that she was having trouble dismissing.

"He doesn't want _you_, Heather. Gil Grissom said _NO_ to the great Heather Fuller Kessler. Imagine, Heather. Perhaps he's known about your little indiscretions all along, Heather. Perhaps that's why he decided not to take a number and then take you out for a _ride_, Heather."

Heather's anger was pushing her limits as she moved away from him, only to quickly calm herself and volley some hurtful venom back to him.

"And what about that little tramp, Philip? Did you ever get to _enjoy_ Ken's 'sloppy seconds'?"

The stricken look on his face was her answer.

Defiantly, Heather turned back towards the stair as her eyes took on a calculated glare.

"I could _kill _that little wimp for messing up…if they'd have noticed she'd written that number-" she muttered as she was turning towards the stairs, but Philip heard and couldn't stop himself from taunting her.

"But the state already took care of that, didn't they? Even after Gil notified them, they still refused to put her on a suicide watch," he spoke with cocky air of someone with insider information, yet Heather was not rising to the bait.

"She was useless to me now, I'm sure I couldn't care less what happened to her," was the response, yet Philip couldn't miss the delight in her tone.

"Just another witness you don't have to worry about, Heather?" he continued, and for a moment he saw something flash across her eyes before the detached demeanor returned.

The soft smirk crossing her face could not diminish the evil behind it.

"Ernie's fate was not in my hands," Heather said matter-of-factly, but Philip quickly rejoined, "He couldn't stand being used like that, Heather."

She turned swiftly and moved towards him using a voice dripping with sweetness, "_He_ came to _me_, Philip. And he got everything he wanted. _He_ wanted to please _me_…"

"Until he finally couldn't live with himself, knowing the price of pleasing you was too high, was that it, Heather?" Philip softly interrupted, his practiced tone measured as if dealing with a patient.

"Too high a price for spending a night with the legendary Heather?" a voice interrupted as both figures turned to find Ken hovering in the doorway with a near-empty champagne flute in his hand, "I do believe that is an impossibility."

"You're drunk," Philip almost scolded, his eyes blazing.

Ken moved a bit unsteadily as his jacket swung open to reveal a tell-tale bulge near his pant pocket, the outline of a derringer faintly visible.

The thought that his half-brother was packing a pistol made Philip concerned.

But before he could voice his questions, Ken was already moving down the stairs.

"And just where are you heading, brother dear?" Heather asked perfunctorily, as she was now moving towards the party's entrance and raising her hand in a beckoning motion to undisclosed persons inside.

"Oh," Ken smirked and set the empty crystal unsteadily on the top step, "I think it's time this party really got started, don't you?"

With that, he seemed to amble with a purpose down the path leading from the library.

Philip gave Heather a disgusted look and took off down a side path along the building.

gsrgsrgsrgsrgsrgsrgsrgsr

"No."

Sara turned away from Gil and began to move slowly up the shrub-lined path that led away from the lake.

"Sara-" he insisted, but she continued to move slowly forward.

Truth be told, she was afraid.

If after everything that had been said between them, hurtful as it was, surely whatever else Gil deemed important enough for her to know might break her.

She was so tired.

"Take me home, Gil…please…" she entreated, and the visible upset that was encompassing her entire being almost made him give in.

However, they had come too far tonight to leave this other bombshell for another time.

"Sara-" he started, but was stopped as he watched her move gracefully to hoist herself back onto the inclined surface of the granite gate.

"Well, then," she spoke softly as she leaned back slowly and seductively, " how about…just take _me_?"

"Sara," he groused, but found himself moving towards her in movements mimicking the slow pull of a moth to a flame.

"Gil," she whispered as she glanced around the vicinity, "we're alone, finally alone, in this beautiful setting…" as she watched him move forward until he was standing in front of her long legs that dangled lazily over the edge of the wall.

_She is so beautiful._

"Sara," he attempted again, but it was clear who was winning this battle.

"C'mon, Gil…just love me, Gil…I need you…so much…" her voice barely a whisper as her hands moved to raise the hem of her dress slightly.

He wanted to protest loudly.

He wanted to remind her that public decency laws were enacted for a reason.

He wanted her to stop being so damn _beautiful_.

He wanted…for once…to let the rules be damned.

He wanted to drag her off that damn wall and move them to the shadows and give her exactly what she was asking for.

But before he could act on any of those impulses, he saw Sara's eyes widen, felt the pressure of the blow, and heard her terrified voice cry out his name before the world went black…

What felt like moments but certainly was longer than that, Gil felt the ministrations of campus security as they tended to his bleeding head and tried to rouse him from his stupor.

"Sir, lay still. EMS is on the way. Try not to move."

Gil felt the world slowly returning to the shadows as his head lolled to the side.

His last impression before the darkness returned was of the blood pool leaking slowly towards him…


	38. Chapter 38

This chapter is rated M for suggestions of violence and assault. Please read responsibly.

There was not time for a reread, so all mistakes are mine...

The time difference caused him to misinterpret his cell phone chime of an incoming call as the blare of his alarm clock.

Groggily, his eyes opened to comprehend why the damned object wouldn't stop blaring despite his pounding on the snooze button.

That's when he saw the offending object dancing to the vibration of the ring alert.

"Brass," he mumbled, trying his hardest to become more awake.

"This is City Hospital in Cambridge. Is this," a pause as papers shuffled before the voice continued, "Captain Jim Brass, LVPD?"

Jim sat bolt upright feeling as if his stomach hadn't followed.

For the next few moments, he confirmed that he was one of Grissom's emergency contacts and only then did he received news of Gil's attack and the reassurance that his injuries were minor despite the need to keep him for observation – and questioning by the local authorities.

A few invectives slipped out before Brass regained his official demeanor, demanding to be placed in touch with the person heading the investigation into the attack.

As the doctor was beginning his reassurances as to his friend's condition, Jim suddenly had a feeling of dread wash over him as he inquired about Sara's situation.

The silence reinforced the confusion of both parties as the response indicated no female had been brought in with Mr. Grissom.

"_Doctor_ Grissom would not have been alone at the time of the attack," Jim insisted, hoping indeed that the proximity of Gil's attack to the reunion site would have made that statement true.

"Go immediately to whoever is in charge and make them aware that there is a very great possibility that these injuries were sustained during a kidnapping attempt that was apparently successful…and tell them if I am not contacted by someone heading this investigation within the next fifteen minutes, there will be _hell_ to pay!" he barked with uncharacteristic emotion as he flipped his phone closed and dashed from his bedroom.

In his study, he used his landline to inform the precinct he was taking immediate emergency family leave, but that his absence was not to be reported as other than vacation.

Next was a hastily placed call for an airline reservation and, after some badge-wielding and arm-twisting, was placed first on the standby line for the next available seat to the east coast.

Sitting at his desk, he inhaled deeply before reaching into his lap drawer to loosen the file he had secreted away by taping to the underside of the wooden shelf.

Muttering to himself, Brass cursed his actions and wondered if his failure to follow through on the information in the folder might have contributed to the problems Gil now encountered.

_Despite the obvious fact that Natalie Davis had kidnapped Sara and left her in the desert to die, several questions had plagued Brass since the day of his friend's rescue._

_Everyone was so celebratory that she had been found alive, and with Grissom having taken off that large block of time as Sara mended in the hospital and at home, the case was officially, albeit hastilym, marked CLOSED._

_Yet, having headed the night shift before Grissom, there were several points of the investigation that Brass felt had not been fully addressed._

_In the immediate days following Sara's rescue, as the night shift spent so many hours at the hospital, Jim had availed himself of his position to review the impounded car that Natalie had used to transport her victim._

_Flipping open his file, his eyes reviewed the list of unanswered questions he had formed as a result of his investigation:_

…_How did someone of Natalie's size lift Sara from the garage floor into the trunk of her car without injury to herself or her unconscious victim?_

…_How did Natalie drive Sara into the desert and at the same time manage to get a crane out into that deserted spot to lower the car onto the drugged woman?_

…_How did Natalie leave Sara under that car and drive both the crane and her vehicle back to the city?_

…_Who were the unidentified figures seen on the expanded garage footage who were leaving the stairwell just moments before Sara disembarked from the elevator?_

…_Was it really possible that Natalie would write the name and number of that towing company in such a relatively open space when the rest of her contact numbers were kept secreted away in her notebooks which she kept close to her at all times?_

The ring of his cell brought him back to his immediate concerns.

Little satisfaction was given through the brief phone exchange, each party vying for dominance even though Brass insisted there might be a link from Gil's attack to a "cold case".

He was taken aback by the inference that the attack was not the only issue on departmental radar.

Yet, he couldn't breech their tight-lipped security and had to back down and agree to wait until he had arrived to be fully informed as to the status of the "investigation".

Civility ruled, but the message was clear: _I'm holding you responsible for Grissom's safety until I arrive._

Packing the file in a travel briefcase, Jim moved to pack a small suitcase and head towards the airport.

His mind, however, wondered if he had made a mistake in keeping his concerns for Sara's safety to himself.

He had been greatly concerned when Sara left the first time, but a week after she had left that letter for Gil at the lab, Jim had been relieved when Sara had contacted him to let him know she was in San Francisco, pleading with him to watch over Gil until she felt well enough to return.

Since the rest of the lab continued to worry over where Sara had gone, Brass was content that no one else knew where she was and that at least she was safe outside of Vegas.

Yet, the evidence was compelling him to reach only one conclusion.

_Natalie had not acted alone…and there was someone out there that was still a danger to Sara._

Moving towards his front door, Brass glanced at the case he carried that contained that file.

Inside would be found prints that he had lifted from Natalie's trunk and backseat and back door of an unknown set of donors that he had run through CODIS before deciding he needed to back off the investigation before questions started to be asked about his activities.

As he sped off towards the airport, he hoped that if indeed there had been a thorough investigation of Gil's crime scene, a match to any fingerprints found there could lend credence to the theory that indeed Sara had been kidnapped by the same threat that placed her under that red mustang.

gsrgsrgsrgsrgsrgsr

He blinked his eyes slowly, trying to clear his field of vision.

His head felt as if it were going to split in two.

His ears buzzed and hummed, indicating that some internal swelling or damage had occurred because of the direct hit to the side of his head.

"Mr. Grissom? I am Detective Barton, Cambridge Police. I'm here to take your statement. I must advise you that anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

Gil tried to raise his head from the pillow, wishing to face this lawman who obviously was beginning a second shift.

Pain seared through his head from one side straight through to the other, and his head flopped back as he gasped in pain.

"Is this really necessary? This man needs to be medicated, and I'm not sure-" the charge nurse began, but was cut off with a dismissive wave of a hand.

"This officer will see you out," he spoke curtly, and the nurse's protest became softer as the uniform escorted her down the hall.

"Now, Mr. Grissom," the detective began in the least friendly stance, "let's get to the bottom of this incident, shall we?"

Before Gil could focus on the odd tenor of his tone, the door behind him flew open as a large figure in scrubs imposed himself between the policeman and his patient.

"I did not give you access to this patient, detective," the doctor snapped as he turned to monitor the IVs and displays on the screens.

"Sorry, doctor, but my investigation is time-sensitive. I have a homicide to solve-" the detective began to protest, only to have his words interrupted by Gil's worried, "Homicide? Is Sara alright?"

Impatiently, he grasped weakly onto his doctor's arm to plead, "Is she okay? Sara? Is she alright?"

"Dr. Grissom, please…relax…I'm going to give you something-"

"No! Just…just tell me she's alright…I need to get out of here…I need to see her-" he gasped as he tried to sit up, only to have the dizziness block his attempts.

The doctor pulled out a syringe and added it to the IV line.

"You need to rest, Dr. Grissom…I can't give you a sedative due to the concussion, but this pain medication is pretty strong. It will help you to relax. Just lay back and relax," the physician said soothingly.

"I must protest," the detective snarled angrily, but the doctor interrupted again.

"No…you must _leave_, detective," he spoke with narrowed eyes before turning back to his patient, effectively ending the discussion.

Slapping his notebook closed angrily, his eyes raked over Grissom who now was lying still as the medication was having its desired effect.

Storming out the door, the detective missed the slight crinkle of Gil's brow as he muttered, "Sara," before succumbing to the soothing effects of the medication.

Gsrgsrgsrgsrgsrgsrgsrgsr

She was aware of the pain before she was fully awake.

Her mind filled with apprehension as bizarre images she prayed were not true memories began to play out behind her closed eyelids.

_Screams of panic followed by entreaties to stop which were ignored as his hands yanked her from her perch and pushed her flat into the shadows behind the granite gateway._

_She could hear more than feel the fabric ripping as his large hands made quick work of any obstructions that prevented him from achieving that which he had intended._

"_C'mon, Sara…it'll be just like old times," she recalled him taunting her as within minutes he had entered her roughly, muffling her cries with painful pressure of his lips as she tried to prevent him from pushing his tongue into her mouth._

_The action was horrifying in its intensity, and she was sure there would be bruising as in the past when he used this particular method of punishing her when she hadn't done something to his satisfaction._

_It was when he had obviously climaxed that Sara felt she could finally breathe – until he roughly yanked her body slightly upwards before turning her face-down into the brush._

_Her gasp as the needles scratched her face and the now-exposed areas of her upper body caused him to laugh aloud._

_His face near to hers, he whispered in her ear as his hands came around to roughly grab onto her chest, "That's right, Sar…I didn't think you wanted to finish just yet…I bet you still have lots more fight in you…"_

_And with that, she could feel his strength as the stitching of the entire top section of her dress had given way, exposing her to the world._

_Feeling her lower body being yanked upwards, Sara tried to disassociate herself from what was currently happening to her; yet her mind was driven back to her younger days on campus and the often-painful activities she had allowed herself to be subjected to during that time._

_Her focus filled with those memories, it wasn't until she felt herself being suddenly released that she realized there was a struggle happening behind her._

_Before she could raise herself numbly to see what was happening on the other side of the wall, the shot rang out._

_It was a single shot, close range by the muffled sound of it._

_Desperately Sara raised herself up onto her knees and yanked herself up enough to expose the view on the other side of the now-quiet walkway._

_Sara could see Gil's form lying so still she shook her head in disbelief that he could be dead._

_Her eyes took in the other form lying face-down mere inches from where Grissom's still body, blood beginning to leak slowly from her assailant's chest wound; her training made her suspect a direct hit to the heart._

_Yet her injuries made her weak, and her confusion was compounded by the sight of handkerchief-laden hands folding Gil's lean, strong fingers over the handle of a derringer before lifting it gingerly and tossing it only a few feet from the tuxedo-clothed figures._

_Despite her desire to scream for help, Sara found herself barely hanging onto consciousness as her eyes locked onto the man who was now fast approaching her._

"_No…please…please help him," she tried to protest, but soon found herself encased in his steady grip as his strong arms lifted her effortlessly and his sure strides led them down the dimly lit stone path leading towards the lake._

Soft stroking movements across her cheeks, meant to be soothing, caused Sara to yank her body away from the offending fingers – and to cry out in response to the waves of pain that shook her to the core because of those movements.

"Sshh…it's okay, Sarabelle…you're safe now…I have you…you don't have to worry about them hurting you anymore…we're together now…you have nothing left to be afraid of…"

Sara closed her eyes as her body shook involuntarily, aware that she now was more afraid than she could remember in her recent past…

A/N: thanks again and again for your patience and support of this story…your reviews and emails were terrific as usual…hoping to post more in a day or two…take care…Kathy


	39. Chapter 39

Sara tried to remove herself from his grip, but her strength waned as he pulled himself fully against her.

She swallowed the hiss in reaction to the pressure of his grasp across the cuts on her abdomen which was soon replaced by the pain of his chest pressing against the wounds on her back.

"Philip…please…" she tried, but it soon became apparent that Philip was no longer listening to her as he just began rambling.

"You're safe now, honey…I have you…I made sure no one is going to hurt you again," he ranted softly as his lips made small indents into her mussed hair.

"Philip," Sara spoke against the lump that had formed in her throat, "please…tell me what happened…_what_ did you do?" she begged as her brain fought to distinguish between the images that flashed before her.

"I killed him," Philip stated without emotion, a fact that sent chills down her spine.

"Who-o-o-o…Philip, who are you talking about?" she asked weakly, blinking back the tears that her anxiety had created.

"That bastard," he spoke again as his kisses were becoming more amorous.

"Philip," she tried again as her attempts to extricate herself from his grasp increased, "I don't understand. Please…" she spoke more forcefully in an attempt to stop his unwanted attentions.

When she was suddenly flung onto her back, she no longer could stifle the painful moan from her injured back slamming onto the mattress.

It was only when she saw his face looming over her that Sara realized the eyes of her "savior" looked decidedly unstable.

"He never cared for you, Sarabelle…he used you before, and he thought he had the right to just _take_ something _you_ should never have given to him," he chided, as if scolding a small child.

"Ken?…Philip, you _killed _Ken Fuller?" she gasped in disbelief.

Smiling brightly, his candor was unnerving her.

"Yes…he was hurting you…I told him a long time ago that if he ever came near you again, I'd kill him. So, I did."

His smile remained bright despite the look of horror on Sara's face.

She wasn't sure she could live with the knowledge that she was the reason a man was dead.

"Grissom," Sara suddenly asked, her eyes flying to his almost angrily, "and what did you do with Grissom?"

Philip's laugh echoed across his apartment.

"Oh, that was all Ken's doing. You don't have to worry any longer, Sara. He got what was coming to him."

Sara swore and then leveled Philip with a glare.

"So he's…dead," she could barely make out the words.

"No…but I'm sure the authorities will take care of _that_ sooner or later," he smirked, but then his eyebrows crunched in confusion at her silence.

"The bastard is dead…Grissom's prints are on the gun…you don't see, do you, Sarabelle?...It's over…we can start again, the way it was always supposed to be…" he smiled and caught her off-guard as his body covered hers in a clear indication of his intentions.

"Stop…Philip…_stop_!" she finally got out as she tossed her head in a futile attempt to reject his attentions.

"Sarabelle," Philip smiled and rolled off her, bringing her some momentary relief.

"You'll see, honey…this will all work out…"

As he rose from the bed, Sara muffled another cry as her beaten body protested her movements as she curled herself into a protective ball.

"Philip…I need help…medical help…please…" she tried, but Philip was already spouting off proudly on his accomplished deeds.

"It was so easy, really," he spoke as he turned away from her to start the tea kettle, apparently oblivious to her pleas.

"I was just walking around campus, I'd had enough of that witch –" his voice revealed his anger at the memory, but then he sighed and started in a happier tone, "and just as I thought I'd be the loser in their games once again –" his chuckle now held a demonic quality, "there was my chance to really even the score…"

His voice trailed off as he stood almost immobile, and Sara feared he was lost in his thoughts as the gas fumes continued to rise from the unlit burner.

"Philip," she called out several times before his head snapped to attention and he continued to complete his actions.

He chuckled softly and to himself he muttered something before Sara tried to connect with him again.

"Oh, Sara…I really wish I could see her face when she finds out her "brother dearest" is lying stone cold dead on a slab in the morgue," Philip continued heedless to her attempts to speak.

Recalling the ordeal she herself had endured when faced with the sight of her father's bloody corpse lying inches away from her mute form, Sara bristled before she spoke, "It's a horrible thing, Philip."

He reeled around swiftly, his eyes still blazing with anger.

"You _can't_ feel _sorry_ for her, Sara," his words commanding.

"But I do-" she retorted, only to be interrupted by his rage.

"You_ can't…no!..._ not after what she's done to you!"

Seeing this as a chance to clear her confusion over the events of the past night, Sara spoke softly, "Heather has done nothing to me, Philip," her face stoic even as her words rang doubtful even to her own ears.

"_Nothing_!" Philip shouted, his movements menacing as he paced back and forth before her bed before stopping only inches before her.

"She killed your _child_, Sara!"

Silence reigned as the kettle's whistle was the only sound in the apartment.

The noise was irritating, but neither occupant was aware of the background sound as Philip glared and Sara tried to comprehend what he had just said.

Shaking her head to clear it, Philip took the movement to mean she was disavowing his revelation.

"She came to me, Sara. I saw her approaching my door – god, she looked so much _like_ you," he began as Philip once again seemed lost in his thoughts.

The kettle was screaming, and the action finally infiltrated his stupor.

Turning quickly, he blindly removed the offending object from the stove but did not turn to face the shocked woman on the bed.

"I looked out the window at the hotel, and I saw you…well, her…coming from the street…you were wearing your CSI vest and hat, your hair in a ponytail – the way I loved to see it…you had on your glasses…"

He turned to watch Sara's reaction, but she was struck mute as her mind raced to piece together the evidence even as her injuries distracted her.

"I waited for the knock before whipping open the door…" his smile failed much as Sara supposed it did on that fateful day.

"She was in Vegas," Sara mused, disbelieving that the daughter with whom she had tried years ago to connect was forever taken away without meeting.

"She worked with you every day," Philip stated bluntly, his mental state disavowing the cruelty of the admission.

Sara's eyes closed against the facts presented. Surely Philip was teetering on the edge of a breakdown. How could this be real?

"She came to me, her intentions clear," his voice had softened, some aspect of his professional self emerging from somewhere deep inside of his tortured soul.

Philip looked at Sara sorrowfully, almost pleading for understanding.

"I told her it would never happen between us…but she said she had fallen in love with me...she said she had always wanted some to love her - and that Heather had told her how I was already in love…with you…and…so she thought if she could just get rid of you, she could take your place…and then I would love her –"

Sara was shaking her head in disbelief. Surely this could not be happening.

"Heather…Heather told her?..._Who_, dammit! _Who_ wanted to get rid of me, take my place?" she was shaking as a myriad of emotions wracked her tired form.

Philip continued as if Sara had not spoken.

"She was so angry, Sara…I told her I understood…what it was like…to love someone and to not be able to get close enough to get them to really see you…" his voice waned as his attention was once again.

The CSI turned on her interrogation skills as she pressed, "Who did that to you, Philip? Who pretended to be me?"

Shaking his head, a tear rolled down his cheek as Philip sat heavily on the bed.

"She left me, angry beyond belief…I watched her leave the hotel and disappear among the crowd as night was falling…it was the last time I saw her…"

Turning to Sara, Philip mourned, "She looked so much like you, Sara…she must have worn a wig under the cap, but god she looked so much like you…"

Sighing, he dropped his head and scrubbed his face with both hands before raking them through his hair.

"I know it was Heather, Sara. She must have hired someone to go after you. They wouldn't have known the difference, Sara…if you had seen her," he mourned as Sara's eyes widened at the picture that was clearing in her mind.

"Heather? Hired a hitman…to kill _me_?" she asked incredulously.

She had known Heather held her in little regard, but this was insane…._criminally_ insane.

"No. NO, Philip. You're mistaken," she argued, but Philip moved close enough to take her hand.

"Sara-"

"NO, Philip! I mean…why would she want that? Why would she DO that?" Sara was almost yelling now, the possibility of this conjecture being true making her heart pound wildly.

"Because Natalie failed," he answered calmly, as if the logic of the response was inescapable.

"_Natalie_!" Sara gasped, her breath increasing as even the mention of her name now brought the terror of the experience flashing through her weakened form.

"Philip…what are you _talking_ about?" she pounded weakly on his chest with a raised hand, adamantly defiant that he was lying about Heather – for the alternative was too horrible to comprehend.

"They killed her, Sara…Heather wanted you dead, but Tessa was killed instead… you really can't blame them…they couldn't know…she looked so-"

Philip stopped talking as Sara jerked away from him and forced herself to stand, weakly supported by the opposite side of the bed.

"You said it was my…daughter…you said Tessa was killed…you…you're saying…Tessa…no…NO!" Sara screamed angrily as she covered her face with her hands, sure that this whole nightmare was some bizarre nightmare.

"HOW can you know this? HOW, Philip?" Sara demanded, not sure what was real and searching for something concrete to focus on.

"I told you, Sarabelle…I've kept my eye on her for years…used my influence to be sure she finally was placed with the Dells…that's where she met Natalie…she really watched out for Tessa…she was just a thirteen when she was moved there…Natalie seemed to do better under Ernie's attention…"

Philip smiled in memory.

"He was an amazing foster father, Sarabelle. He could turn a kid around…" his voice softened at the memory.

"Even though I was only there a while, he never forgot my birthday…sent a card or a note almost every holiday," beamed Philip.

"Natalie was doing great with the Dells, and she really took Tessa under her wing," he noted smiling at some personal memory.

His face morphed to a scowl as he continued, "When Mom Dell died, Ernie couldn't face the loss…she was such an important person…to all of us…Natalie suffered the loss more personally than the rest, I guess…Tessa tried everything to help Natalie, but she was closing herself off again."

He stood and began pacing again, "And that's how Heather used her wiles to get Ernie under her control…he was so lonely, the poor guy…just looking for some relief from the grief."

Spinning around her moved towards Sara pleading, "Don't you see? When she found out about the fosters, she got close to Ernie, visited him at the house, knew just how to get Natalie to open up to her…you know, like Mom used to do…stroked her ego, made her feel like Natalie was her "special girl"…"

Sneering at his contempt for his sister, he continued, "And when she realized something she wanted was being denied her, that _nothing_ she tried was working, she used those girls like she used everyone unfortunate enough to cross her path…and she hired those goons to help them out in the desert…"

Sara heart stopped as she sat heavily on the bed. Death would be welcome rather than endure the answers she knew would be forthcoming.

"So…you are standing there, telling me, that…that Natalie did not act alone."

Standing weakly, she turned to protest the inescapable conclusion that was staring her in the face.

"You are saying…that Heather…plotted my death?...for what purpose, Philip? What possible reason would Heather have for wanting me dead?" she almost pleaded, as her own mind was conjuring up several responses to that query.

"Very simply, Sara…Grissom."


End file.
